Paradise Lost
by RDMerlin
Summary: Castiel is captured and tortured by a clan of renegade angels looking for revenge. Once he is mysteriously freed, he finds his way to the Winchester's, broken and in desperate need of help as he struggles with what has happened to him and his inability to share the truth of his torture to the brothers. Meanwhile, Sam is miraculously recovered, but the payment is still due.
1. Chapter 1

**This is probably going to end up as a very long story (the longest I have ever written), but I'm glad for that as I really want to get this written up and enjoy finishing something. Okay, next thing is obviously warnings. I will post warnings for each chapters. Oh, also, there are no pairings in this. It is general. **

**Warnings: Torture **

Castiel's eyes flickered open. His mind was covered in a thick fog and his body carried a heaviness that he had never experienced before. It took a moment for the memories to trickle to the surface, and with them a new surge of adrenaline, mixed with dread and a suffocating anguish. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pounding inside his skull and the strange nausea that gripped his body in a swirling revolt. He turned his eyes to the heaven, but the thick canopy of trees blocked his view. He spotted a clearing up ahead, and approached with hesitation, knowing that it was unlikely that the sight that would greet him would bring him anything other than grief and festering regret.

He knew he shouldn't have been shocked. The sight of those flaming, screaming meteors plummeting to earth was a direct result of his own foolish actions. He felt his eyes start to burn, but he was nothing if not stubborn, and no tears escaped. He swallowed against the painful tightening of his throat and pushed onwards, desperately tearing his gaze away from the sky. It hit him a second later that he had nowhere he could possibly go. The Winchesters were a possibility, but would they welcome him after what he had done? It seemed unlikely. Besides, he had no idea where he was, and he had no way of contacting them. What then, could he possibly do? Perhaps the only option available was to sit here and let the elements claim him. It would be simpler for everyone.

"Castiel," a familiar voice sneered, a shadowed form emerging from the forest depths, turning blazing eyes on him. Castiel jumped, turning to face his brother and raising his hands in defeat as he noticed the blade held within the angel's hand.

"Please brother," he paused, unable to perceive the angel's true form, and therefore unable to identify him by name. Had he not consigned himself to his fate, this realization would have had him crashing to the ground and calling out to a father who would never care to listen. "Just do it!" He growled, fully exposing his now vulnerable human body.

"What, kill you?" The angel mocked, as two more forms crept into the clearing. "Never." The angel finished his voice a strange mixture of cold indifference and animalistic desire. Castiel swallowed heavily, his breath hitching in his throat as the true intentions of his brother washed over him. The two newcomers grinned sadistically, circling him with blades poised at the ready. He started to back away, his resolve shattering before him. Death was what he selfishly longed for, but an eternity of torture? He would fight against that. A voice in the back of his head cruelly suggested that death was too good for him; that he was too far from redemption, and endless suffering was all he deserved. Still, he was very selfish and decided to turn tail and run, hoping, that just maybe, without their wings his brothers wouldn't be able to catch him.

The faint hope that struggled for dominance against the dark recesses of his sole was quickly engulfed before it ever had the chance to really spark into life. One minute he was running, the sound of his heavy labored breaths that seemed determined to slowly tear apart his chest, and the steady pounding of his feet on the sodden ground the only thing he could hear. The next minute, and he was falling. A strong gust of wind used his momentum against him, causing him to come tumbling to the ground where he found himself pinned and unable to move. He slowly turned his head, fixing his gaze on the approaching angels that were looking at him as if he was nothing more than a low level demon waiting to be smote.

Pain exploded as the butt of the dagger connected viciously with his skull. A groan forced itself from his lips despite the tenseness of his firmly closed jaw. His head was hit again and his vision started to swim; explosions of light and color contributing to the pounding within his mind. He forced his eyes open, glaring at the angels with a new surge of determination fueled by the knowledge that had they wanted him unconscious they could easily have made him so with an effortless and _painless_ touch. Already blood was seeping from his head, trailing a line down his forehead where the droplets of blood rested precariously just above his eyes. Another hit and his now human body could no longer take it; his vision faded into black and he found himself drifting in the darkness, before all conscious awareness trickled away and he found himself left alone in this non-existent void.

* * *

When he reawakened he was no longer lying on the forest floor, but was chained to a solid surface behind him that held him upright. He shifted, his manacled wrists already aching with the effort of supporting his weight. He glanced downwards, repositioning his feet so they rested on the small platform, which relinquished the burden on his wrists somewhat. He tested his bindings, but found himself barely able to move thanks to the chain that was tightly wrapped around his exposed abdomen. He let his head lull back against the hard and surprisingly cool surface behind him. Stretching against his restraints he realized that the upright platform he was chained to was metallic and engraved with enochian sigils. He frowned. Did they still think he was an angel? If so-he decided-he would not correct them. The torture that they would inflict to an angel would surely kill him in his human form, a mistake he was hoping they might just make. It was better than the alternative, and after all, it was what he craved after all his wrongdoing.

The slight click of a door closing echoed around his new prison. He swallowed down the fear, the muscles in his neck bulging as he tried to twist to get a look at the new occupant, but he could not see them. The majority of his vision was restricted to what was directly in front of him, and from the sounds of thing, the only entrance to this prison was behind him. Even in his position, he had to acknowledge the genius of this design that increased the physiological impact of any torture. He briefly wondered where the angels had managed to find such a place, or whether it was a building of their own creation.

"Castiel," he craned his head, trying to locate the source of the sound, but it was still out of sight. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes in order to focus his senses. His training was already kicking in, forcing him to gather information in order to formulate an escape, despite the fact that it was near enough impossible. He heard the steady rattle of what sounded like a trolley being rolled towards him. His blinked his eyes open, his breath catching in his throat as he saw the array of torture devices that were arranged on that trolley, that was being pushed towards him by an angel occupying a middle-aged man's vessel, with dark hollow eyes, and wrinkled brow. The eyes shone with sadistic lust, and he was unable to control the fear that exploded within him. An image of Dean about to confront Alistair invaded his mind before he desperately pushed it away, unwilling to think about the hunter in such a way.

"Castiel. As if slaughtering half of heaven's host wasn't bad enough, you then had to go and cast out those who were left," The angel growled, concentrating his anger on the bizarre metal implement that he was currently heating over an open flame. Castiel forced himself not to look at it too long, in case he figured out what it was used for.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, unable to prevent the pleading tone that entered his voice. The angel paused in what he was doing to send a heated glare in his direction, before grabbing something from the table that Castiel had to strain to properly see. He did not have much time to wonder what it was, as it became quite obvious as the tip of the cattle prod was pressed against his sternum, an explosion of current rippling over his body in an agonizing surge of heat that forced a cry of pain and shock from his mouth.

"Not sorry enough." The angel hissed, backhanding him. Castiel glared at the retreating angel, the stinging of his cheek somewhat numbed by the tingling sensations that captured his body. "You destroyed heaven; did you really think we were ever going to forgive you?" The angel said, his voice indicating that he did not desire a response, and Castiel was smart enough to know that it would be wise to bite his tongue. The angel hummed as he surveyed his choice of implements, his hand hovering over the table before descending on a recently sharpened blade. "Let's start simple, shall we?" The angel said with a wicked grin, approaching Castiel who tensed against his bonds.

The angel started slow, tracing the blade along his abdomen, watching with morbid fascination as the muscles rippled in anticipation. He slowly trailed the blade up to Castiel's throat, pressing down in order to slice at the flesh. Castiel released a hiss, the wound stinging and dribbling blood but he knew it would not be fatal. His heart seemed to flutter as he remembered Metatron doing the same thing to him just a few hours earlier.

"You know, we were a bit put off when we learnt about your mortality. I mean, in heaven, we can be so creative. But down here? We are just so limited. We had to be more...inventive," the angel murmured as he surveyed his work. Castiel tilted his head to look at the enochian sigils properly now that he knew that the other angels were aware of his humanity. He head was yanked around in order to face the angel that slashed viciously at his cheek in order to reprimand him. "The sigils are interesting. It's been a while since we've used them before. They deal with the inconveniences of humanity. Prevents the stuff that we really don't want to deal with-purely for sanitary reasons. I mean, you're going to be here for an awfully long time, we don't want it to smell too bad. And, that one is very curious. Prevents you from escaping into unconsciousness. Although, I'm not sure if it combats the symptoms of sleep deprivation, but it will be fascinating to find out." The angel explained in far more detail than Castiel truly wanted, patting his cheek in a strangely affectionate way that managed to make his skin crawl.

The angel returned to tracing the blade over Castiel's skin, although this time he was slicing the skin. Castiel's breathing increased as he bit his lip to hold back any sounds of pain, determined to keep some shred of his dignity. The angel seemed unconcerned, satisfied to carve intricate patterns on Castiel's skin, reveling in the crimson blood that bubbled forth, staining the knife and dripping to the floor in some sick and twisted monotonous melody.

Castiel withdrew into his own mind, closing his eyes in a feeble attempt to shield himself from the pain. He knew he had gone through worse. But, with his now human body, it was like his nerves were on fire. He was experiencing everything; the trembling ache that had set into his muscles, the ripping of skin, the crawling trail of blood: even the damn bitter coldness of the room. He trapped a whimper in his throat, the sound coming out as a guttural hiss. The paid had enveloped his body in a thick white blanket, coating his senses with the searing heat. Every now and again it would flare in a localized area; his cheek, the area beneath his ribs, his left shoulder. He did not know what caused it. He refused to open his eyes. Refused to release a sound; desperate for some small form of victory in this endless demise.

"You can't escape it that easily," the words were whispered into his ear. He briefly wondered when the angel had managed to get so close to him, but he pushed it to the back of his mind, awaiting the next wave of agony. After a few charged moments, he could no longer help himself. He opened an eye, peaking at the angel beneath his bruised and swollen lid. He pressed himself against the metal platform behind him, his body tightening against his will. He took a long and difficult breath, forcing himself to relax, to enjoy this brief chance of a breather. But regardless of what he tried to tell himself, he could not stop himself fighting against the needle that was jabbed rather harshly into his neck, the strange liquid seeping into his blood to be pumped throughout his body. "Hmm, this will certainly be interesting."

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed that. Please review. Also, this is probably about as descriptive as the torture will ever get.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, this chapter is quite a lot shorter than my first one, but I felt like I needed to update now as I'm going to be busy for a week or so doing GISHWHES. I also needed to start moving the plot along somewhat. Also, as of now, all warnings will be posted at the end of the chapters, so if you know you might be triggered you can check by going down there. This chapter however contains no warnings. So enjoy.**

Sam was vibrating, his body buzzing with the sheer power of that unwelcomed energy that had taken him in the church. He could still feel it within him. He was trying to push it down, but it was fighting back, desperate to claim him in order to complete the trials. Sam was ready to give in, to crumble under its vice like grip, but he could feel his brother holding him tightly; gripping him to the physical plane. And he knew he had to keep fighting. Pushing against that strange power until he forced it from his body.

He was shaking now. He felt like his body was trying to tear itself apart as his chest heaved in a frantic attempt to get enough air into his quickly failing body. He could distantly hear Dean calling his name, but it was muffled by the piercing ringing that invaded his mind. His hands reached out, clutching against his brother's chest but unable to do more. He pressed himself against the older hunter, seeking out the warmth and comfort that only Dean could provide.

It was not enough though. He knew that it could never be enough. He was coughing again, blood splattering from his mouth and spilling over his brother. His throat was raw and his lungs refused to cooperate. Around him the world seemed to awaken in a blaze of light that burnt from the sky. This was followed by the rumbling of the earth and the crash of some foreign objects that collided with the ground. He tore his eyes open, trying to orient himself, but everything was blurry, slipping away from his reach. Was it a meteor shower? His mouth was moving, mumbling words that he could not hear. He felt the vibration of Dean's voice through his chest, but the words did not pierce the thick fog of his mind.

He groaned in a mixture of frustration and pain, while his body reacted with a fit of violent coughs. His eyes started to burn, but he scrunched them closed. He had cried enough tonight. He could feel that power within him now, rearing up against him like an animal bearing its teeth. He struggled feebly, but he could feel the light of his soul dimming, being engulfed by the dark power. His grip on Dean tightened while the world shattered around him, knowing that no matter what happened, he could not let go. The darkness beneath his eyelids shifted, and he felt himself drowning now. He was being sucked into that dark void, and deep down he knew that there was no going back. He found himself unable to feel, pleasantly disconnected from his physical body, but somehow still aware. Aware of Dean, calling to him with a frightful panic, but he could do nothing to fight his way back to his brother. The darkness had enveloped him, and he drew his final breath.

* * *

When he next opened his eyes, he was both shocked and relieved, relinquishing in every breath he took. He was no longer staring at a burning sky, but at a familiar concrete ceiling. He frowned, pushing himself into a sitting position. He was sitting on a bed; his bed. He glanced around him, taking in the sight of his room in the Men of Letter's bunker. His hand immediately came to rest on his chest, expecting it to flare into white hot searing pain which would result in another series of fatal coughing fits. Except, that didn't happen. Had he not been able to detect the steady beat of his heart he would have contributed the lack of a physical ailment to him being dead.

However, he wasn't free from physical needs. He might not be coughing up a lung while his body viciously tore itself apart, but his throat was still dry. His body was stiff, his muscles aching. But he was no longer on the brink of death. Even for him, that was weird. And with the lack of his brother in sight, it was downright terrifying.

He pushed himself to his feet, and hastily made his way into the main room of the bunker, frantically calling out Dean's name. He ran a hand through his hair, eyes scanning every crevice of the bunker in search of Dean. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the hunter appeared behind him, calling his name with his signature smile.

"Dean, what happened?" He asked, scanning his brother's face, unable to hide the overwhelming relief that washed over him at the sight of his brother, unharmed and breathing.

"The angels fell," chimed a new voice. He turned round, spotting Kevin standing there with an unreadable expression. Sam had almost forgotten about the prophet. He wondered whether Kevin blamed him for not closing hell when he had the chance, therefore making it impossible for the prophet to return to his normal life.

"What?" He exclaimed, turning back to his brother. So the burning sky hadn't been some weird hallucination. But, that raised another very worrying question. "Where's Cas?"

"Haven't got a clue. He's not responding to my prayers." Dean replied, and Sam could not help but detect the unwarranted bitterness in his brother's voice.

"Or he isn't able to respond," he pointed out, but the look he received from Dean made it clear that the thought had already crossed his brother's head. Multiple times. "What happened with me?" He asked, quickly changing the topic. Something flashed in his brother eyes, but it disappeared before Sam could properly understand its meaning.

"I'm not sure. You started coughing up blood, and then passed out." Dean said, and Sam could feel himself being inspected by his brother's eyes. "How are you? I have to admit, it was touch and go for a while back there."

"I feel fine. Probably better than I should feel." He responded, sending a pointed look in his brother's direction, but Dean refused to acknowledge it. "What about Crowley?" He asked after a moment, suddenly remembering the demon who had appeared to revert back to human in that church. Dean's expression darkened and Sam felt Kevin tense behind him. A silent communication passed between the two that Sam did not fully understand, but whatever it was, it seemed like Crowley was a sensitive topic between the two.

"When I got into the church, he seemed human. So I brought him back here, but whatever the hell you did to him, it seems it was temporary. We've got him locked in the dungeon at the moment," Dean explained. Sam couldn't help but wonder what exactly Crowley had done when he had 'reverted' back to his demonic self. Although, it was hardly his most pressing concern. This miraculous recovery thing was still strange. He stared at his brother, wondering whether maybe, he wasn't being told the whole truth.

* * *

**Warnings: None. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, please review if you can!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, well GISHWHES is officially over so I'm able to return to my fanfiction writing. For anyone who reads my 'Swaggity Swangel let's grope an angel' fanfic, that will be updated tomorrow when I'm less tired. Anyway, enjoy this. And I skipped a couple of weeks, but most of it is explained. I didn't really like Dean's narrative style, but it will probably be the last time I will have to adapt to that style in this fic (as in, the reflective, look at what has happened to us since last time style, not as in Dean's perspective) As always, warnings at the end of the chapter if you are easily triggered. **

* * *

Two weeks had passed and there had still been no word from Cas. Dean knew that there wasn't much hope for the angel (if he was still an angel) being all right, or even still alive. Yet, there was still a slight twinge in his mind that was whispering 'he's out there.' Heck of a lot of good it would do him anyway. They had no leads. They couldn't find Cas, so it was up to Cas to find them. Although, Dean was still debating between being pissed at the angel, or being extremely worried and just praying for him to find his way home. After all, he hadn't exactly forgiven Cas for that whole issue with the tablet and the not trusting them despite all that they had gone through. Plus, Cas had managed to literally destroy heaven and throw earth into chaos, although Dean figured that he couldn't be too mad about that considering the fact he didn't actually know what had happened.

And Cas was the least of his worries at the moment. There was a mountain of other problems to face; for starters he had the king of hell locked in his dungeon, a world full of fallen and pissed off angels, and a brother and a bitter prophet to worry about. Kevin hadn't exactly been pleased with the news that hell was still open and therefore he could never return to his normal pre-supernatural life. When Dean had first dragged an unconscious Sam into the bunker and then had to explain what had happened, Kevin had reacted with a fury that Dean had never known him to possess. Although, it was hardly like the prophet could do anything more than throw a few punches that were immediately deflected by the experienced hunter. Which is one of the reasons why he is currently trying to train Kevin to be a hunter. That and the fact the kid should be doing something other than sitting around in a secret bunker drowning his sorrows with the good stuff.

As for Sam, Dean didn't know what to do. He was recovered. But Dean was hardly surprised by that. After all, what exactly would be the reason to back out of a deal before he had provided his half? And that was why he was worried. He still didn't know what he would have to do in order to ensure his brother stayed recovered. That mysterious man had not contacted him to make his request. So, Dean was left hanging in the balance. Tense for when the moment would come. Although, he had gone to hell for Sam before, so it wasn't like it could be any worse.

Then, there was Crowley. That son of a bitch was proving to be a major pain in the ass. Not that he wasn't normally. But now, they weren't allowed to just gank him, despite his and Kevin's attempt to convince Sam otherwise. But, the bastard was not a demon anymore. Except, he was. And that was where they were stuck. When he had first arrived in the church, Dean could have sworn that he was human. There was a complete change in his demeanour, a light in his eyes that wasn't there before. But, the moment they got back to the bunker that light had been engulfed by black and they found themselves under vicious attack. Then, the switch was pulled again and Crowley reverted back to his human self. Dean had locked him in the dungeon, deciding that was a problem for later. And besides, he had information that the brothers needed. He wanted to believe that Crowley was faking it, but the fact of the matter was, if he hadn't reverted back to his human persona then Dean, Kevin and probably Sam would currently be six feet under.

And of course, they were having to deal with a rapidly changing world. The media had tried to cover up what had happened as nothing more than a 'meteor shower', but even they couldn't explain why there were people falling from the sky. The powers that be were trying to deny what was happening, but people knew that something had changed. They knew there was something supernatural out there. On one hand, this meant there were a lot more hunters which made his job a hell of a lot easier. On the other hand, these 'new hunters' had literally no idea what the hell they were doing, and were bordering on obsessive and downright dangerous to themselves and the general public. Within a couple of days Garth had contacted them with a demand for an explanation, after all, 'the Winchester's were always at the centre of world-wide catastrophic events.' Yet, this time it wasn't the Winchester's fault. It was Cas's. And he had very little idea as to what the on earth was actually happening. All he could do was give some pointers on how to trap, torture and kill the angels that were quickly spreading out and causing some massive problems for humanity to face. He had been on a few angels hunts. Mainly hoping that he would get a lead on where to find Cas, but it had so far proved futile. What he had however learnt was that even though angels were no longer able to teleport, or 'fly' they still possessed a large amount of their original power. And, although they were able to overpower a few solo angels, it was proving incredible difficult to kill the angels that had started to form 'clans' for protection. The only thing they could do in that situation was to banish them in order to prevent being killed by them.

The large amount of strictly angelic hunters was causing some concern for him though. He knew that if Cas was out there, then he was now in danger from both angels, demons and humans. And, it wasn't helping his emotional stability to know that he had provided angel hunting information without even thinking about his wayward friend. He had called up and given Garth a description of Cas (or at least his vessel) a few minutes after giving the information, telling him that Cas was out of bounds, but he knew what hunters were like. It wouldn't do much good to the more narrow minded hunters, no matter what he threatened.

* * *

Cas struggled feebly against his bonds, knowing that it would do no good. His shoulders were dislocated-thanks to his captor removing his foothold-and his arms had gone numb long ago. He stomach was alternating between rumbling and tightening in on him, causing spikes of pain that were dull compared to the other tortures inflicted upon him. Not a single portion of his body was free from bruises and overlapping cuts which were still oozing blood that was quickly draining him of his life force. He knew it would only be a few more moments before his body gave up on him. Again. But for now, he had a few moments of peace. He closed his eyes that were heavy with a need for sleep. He could feel himself drifting off to sleep, before he felt the familiar burn of his mind that forced him back to consciousness. He released a sound of frustration, his eyes snapping open in order to relieve the pain as he glared viciously at the sigil that had prevented him being able to escape into blissful unconsciousness for however long he had been here.

He was barely aware that he was being watched by the same angel that had greeted him on his first night here. Over the course of his imprisonment he had been tortured by three different angels, but it was always this angel that invoked the deepest sense of fear within him. And hate. He didn't think he had ever hated someone so much. Not even Naomi. A part of him reflected that it was probably due to his newfound humanity. The other, much larger part of him did not care. About anything. He pushed back against the upright platform as the angel approached, his lips moving in a silent plead. He was not asking for forgiveness-he had given up on that long ago-he simply wanted it to end. But the angel merely smiled, reaching out his hand as he had done so many times before, in order to heal him. He gasped as lightning flowered through his body, stitching up the cuts, fading the bruises, and mending his broken bones. He felt himself pulled from the brink of death as his body painfully repaired itself, and he stared into the eyes of his captor, knowing that his torture was about to start again, as it always did.

* * *

**Warnings: Slight mentions of non graphic torture. **

**Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, well first thing first, don't panic about the fact I haven't updated the other fic, I'm still working with it. It's just I wasn't really in the mood for humour, I was in the mood for this joyful chapter. Also, thank you for the reviews that I got for the last chapter, it's nice to know I actually have people who are enjoying this and it's not just me sitting in the corner writing nonsense. Anyway, I may have written this while extremely sleep deprived, so hopefully there are no mistakes in it. So enjoy. As always warnings are at the end of the chapter. **

* * *

Dean was currently trying to occupy himself by scanning the internet for any news stories which might lead them to a new case. So far, there was nothing. Which was bizarre within itself, after all, hell was now king-less and god only knew what Abaddon was up to now she was free. Although, if he widened his search to include angelic cases he found a lot more possible leads. The only issue with angels was that there were so many leads, that it was pretty much up to luck to find out which one was the right one to follow. The trend was strange. Sam had theorized that the lack of demonic activity was directly connected to the increase of angelic activity, which Dean supposed, made perfect sense. Angels don't like demons at the best of times, and it certainly wasn't the best of times. Now, there was thousands, if not millions of angels grounded to Earth, and he was currently trying to find one of them that could have landed anywhere. He pinched the bridge of his nose, contemplating calling Garth up and asking if anyone had made a sighting of Cas. But he knew Garth would phone him if something had happened. Still, Garth might have a network of contacts in America, but he did not have contact with the whole world. Cas could literally be anywhere. He could be in bloody Antarctica for crying out loud, with literally no way to contact anyone. They had already discovered that angels could no longer teleport, so wherever Cas was, he was stuck.  
He briefly glanced up from his laptop screen when he heard the tell-tale footsteps of his younger brother. Dean raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. "So, how's Crowley today? Demon, or you know, demon?" he asked, somewhat bitterly.

"I don't know," Sam responded with a scowl, crashing onto the seat opposite Dean. There was silence for a moment, and Dean was aware of Sam's eyes on him. "I tried to give him some more purified blood..."

"What!? I thought we agreed that it would be a bad idea to mess with any trial stuff, in case it, you know, triggered you or something," Dean snapped, leveling a glare at his younger brother, who battled him with an expert bitch-face.

"Well, if we had to wait for you to complete a confession, we would be here for years," Sam muttered, a trace of humor slipping into his voice which helped to ease the atmosphere somewhat. Dean pulled a rather-although he'd never admit it-childlike face. "We've got to figure out what to do with him." Sam added, chewing his lip thoughtfully.

"Yeah, how about we gank him. That usually solves the problem." Dean said with a huff, his hands just itching to use that blade. He would not deny that it would be incredible pleasing to end Crowley once and for all.

"Dean, we can't just kill him. He's-"

"Yeah, yeah, he's a born again Christian or whatever." Dean interrupted the familiar rant before it could begin again. "Except he isn't. He's a part time human, and part time ain't good enough Sammy."

Sam did not respond, although they both knew that this conversation was far from over. Dean returned his attention to his laptop, trying to narrow down the results to anything that might have promising results on him finding Cas. It had been, what, three weeks now? And zilch. It wasn't right. He had already contemplated temporally joining a team of angelic hunters to see if he could come across Cas by pure luck, and hopefully saved him from being killed by some over keen bastard. Although, he did not fancy working with other people for extended periods of time.

"Has Kevin found anything out with the angel tablet yet?" Sam asked suddenly, his gaze sharply focused on Dean. The elder Winchester narrowed his eyes, wondering where this was going to lead.

"He's been translating it since the whole, 'angels falling from the sky' thing. So far, nothing." Dean pointed out, his eyes briefly drifting to Kevin's room, a spark of worry in them, before he returned back to Sam, wondering why he was asking a question which he should have already known the answer to.

"Maybe, if Metatron was using a spell, it wasn't actually on the tablet. Maybe it was something completely separate. And, we already know the first two parts of the spell, so maybe if we find the final component, it might help us find Cas, or at least give us an idea as to what the hell happened." Sam explained with a shrug, Dean mulling over his words in his head. It was a start he supposed. And, it was frankly more worthwhile than hopelessly following every angelic lead in the hope of finding the trench coat wearing angel.

"Cas said that the first part was an offspring of an angel and a human, and the second part was a cupid's bow. That's all I know, if there was any incantation, I wasn't around for it." Dean said, running a hand through his hair as he thought back, trying to remember anything that might be significant.

"Well, I imagine that spell would be of enochian origin." Sam suggested, but Dean was already shaking his head.

"No. Cas was certain that it was the real thing, so it can't have been an angelic spell, otherwise he would have known about it."

"That brings us back to the tablet again then. Cas said he couldn't read it, only Metatron and the prophets can. So maybe the spell is in that language?"

"You just said it wasn't on the tablet!" Dean argued, feeling somewhat indignant at the feeling that their conversation was merely revolving in useless circles. Sam frowned at him, brows furrowing together.

"Well, we can just search every ancient language until we find one that works, right?" Sam suggested, and Dean nodded weakly, feeling that somehow they had lost something within their conversation.

"You start on the books. I'll give Garth a call. See what we can find."

* * *

Castiel groaned, the sound slightly muffled by the bitter taste of blood that was clogging his mouth. He swallowed, his stomach clenching into painful spasms as a new wave of hunger pierced him. His eyes rolled back into his head as sleep tried to claim him once more, but he felt the familiar burn in his mind as the sigil took effect and he was forced back to consciousness. He was in a strange state where he could feel the trails of the knife, feeling his skin being sliced as blood collected on the floor, but the pain somehow seemed to elude him. It wasn't that he couldn't feel it, he could, but it was as if he was drifting above it, merely an observer. It was bizarre, but it was a welcomed distraction. His mind was however clouded, the world around him swirling into nothing but patterns of colors while his mind throbbed painfully.

The door behind him clicked close and he was partly aware of another being entering. The angel in front of him paused in his torture, glancing at the newcomer before setting his knife on the table. Castiel watched the exchange, unable to actually absorb the words they were saying, his mind too far gone. His wounds took the brief moment to remind him of their existence, and he clenched his teeth together, remembering his resolve to keep from crying out. The next time his awareness returned to the world around him, the door had closed behind him and he was left alone. He briefly wondered what was happening, but then decided he couldn't care in the faintest.

He released a gasp of surprise as his body connected with the ground: hard. He groaned, curling into himself as the chains that had previously been holding him up clinked uselessly above him. He would have stayed there until the angel came back and chained him up again, were it now for the voice in his head-a voice that was not his own- shouting at him to get up and move. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to drown out the voice, but he found that his body ignited in white hot pain that was only relieved if he obeyed its commands. He pushed himself to his feet, slipping slightly on his own blood. A mental map of this entire place seeped into his mind, and he gripped his head, trying to force the pain from his body. The voice was shouting at him again, and he started to move, his legs shaking with the effort to support his weight, and he found himself stumbling often as he made his way towards the door. He fell onto it, pulling himself up by gripping the handle tightly and pushing against it, surprised when it swung open. Throughout his imprisonment, he had expected the door would be bolted shut. Clearly, they never expected him to make it this far.

As he left the room it was like walking into a brick wall. His previous hunger awakened again, this time clawing at him for his attention, while waves of nausea pounded through his body. The burn within his mind was gone, and he was shaking as he felt his vision fading as he fell to the floor, closing his eyes as he desperately welcomed sleep. But then, the voice was there once more, forcing him to stay awake long enough to escape. He whimpered, but did as it said, dragging himself to his feet, using the wall as support.

He was walking, leaning against the wall, trying to shield his eyes from the light overhead. His vision was swimming as he followed the mental map. Halfway down the corridor his legs gave way again and he collapsed to the floor. He was rewarded with a loud crunch as he face connected, a large bruise forming on his cheek, and his mouth filled with even more blood. The voice was there again, nudging him in the right direction. He pushed himself up with his hands, jumping somewhat when he gaze met a familiar face watching him with a sneer. He frowned, narrowing his eyes at the figure.

"So," Dean started, coming to kneel next to the ex-angel. "This is what you get for not trusting us, I suppose. It's somewhat ironic. The angel that had once called himself God, lying face down choking on his blood. I mean, you destroyed heaven Cas. Murdered your own family, and now you've forced them down into the dirt. You must know you had this coming, right? Must know that you deserve much worse than this, and yet you still have the arrogance to try and escape?" Dean was shouting now, his lip curled upwards in open disgust. Castiel made a small sound in the back of his throat. The voice was shouting at him, rising in desperation and panic, but he was beyond its effects now. "You're pathetic," Dean growled, standing up once more and circling the ex-angel with contempt. Castiel tried to follow his movements, but the figure was shimmering and his vision was rapidly fading. The voice was distant now. He closed his eyes, surrendering to sleep. He prayed that he would never have to wake up.

* * *

**Warnings: Torture. As always, please review, i'm curious to know how in character I am writing them. Although, Castiel isn't exactly his usual self at the moment. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, you better enjoy this because I spent 2 hours doing it when I should have been doing homework. I would have to say though, I have never actually enjoyed writing more than I have in this moment. Anyway, i honestly hope you enjoy. **

* * *

When Castiel next opened his eyes, instead of being chained upright he was strapped to a cold metal table. He tried to close his eyes again, hoping maybe this time, it would end it. However, he felt that burn in his skull again, and with a groan his eyes snapped open. He couldn't see where the sigil was this time, but he imagined it was likely to be carved into the table forcing him to stay conscious. He blinked groggily, trying to orient himself with this new position, scanning what he could see of the room. This was very little, considering there was a leather strap pinning his neck to the table. But, from what he saw, he was almost certain that he was in a different room. Interesting.

"Castiel, it's good to see you in the land of the living." The painfully familiar voice alerted him to another presence in the room. His eyes followed the movement of the angel as he walked into viewpoint, twirling his preferred dagger in his hands. "Don't suppose you want to tell us how you managed to escape?" The angel pried, but as always Castiel responded with silence. The angel's eyes darkened. "You know, silence is a very_ human_ reaction to trauma." He pointed out, his lips curling up in disgust in much the same way Dean's had back in the corridor. Although, Dean couldn't have been in the corridor, in the same way he couldn't be seated at the end of the table watching Cas with a smirk. Which either meant that Castiel had finally lost his mind or the effects of sleep deprivation had finally caught up with him. Not that it really mattered.

As the angel gave up in his questioning in favor of slowly carving into Castiel's skin with that infernal dagger, he felt his mind separate with his body. It was incredibly similar to what it felt like to suffer through the druggings that they occasionally forced on him. It was nice to be able to disengage with his body, except he could still feel that dagger slicing at his skin. He could feel it catch on a particular tough piece of skin until the angel forced it through, and it slipped pass with an audible squelch. He could even smell it: the blood. Even the rotting skin from where previous cuts had been infected. They hadn't healed him this time round. They only healed him when he was on the verge of death, and that was for their own benefit, not his.

The cowardly retreat into the shadowy regions on his mind did not provide much comfort. Other than succeeding in keeping him quiet, and preventing him from reacting to whatever torture they inflicted on him, simply for the matter of his own pride; which was all he had to cling on to. But, his mind was filled with his own demons that plagued him relentlessly. There were his failings, which he was constantly aware of. He had spent a great portion of his time weighing all the pain he had inflicted on others, compared to the pain he had felt here, wondering whether through this torture he was somehow making up for it. He hadn't yet decided whether his pain outweighed theirs, or whether it was a minute dot compared to what he had put them through. On the particularly bad days, he liked to remind himself of all that he had done wrong, and convince himself that this was his chance at repentance. Occasionally, he was able to convince himself that it was true.

When he wasn't berating himself for past failures, he was thinking about the Winchester's. Which he knew he was going to be doing a lot more considering the fact that Dean was still muttering various slurs in his ears. For a moment, he was safe in the knowledge that this was not real. But he was terrified about what would happen when he forgot he was simply hallucinating. When, he could see Dean torturing him, but didn't remember that it wasn't the real Dean. Maybe, if he was lucky this hallucination would dissipate before that could happen. Although, it would likely be replaced with whatever else his mind had to offer. He might see Sam instead of Dean, or perhaps both of them would appear together. Or, neither of them could appear and he might see Naomi, or Raphael, heck, he wouldn't be surprised if he saw Zachariah. It was a somewhat worrying thought.

But now, he had something else to distract himself with. His mysterious escape. It was hard to actually remember much about it, he hadn't exactly been fully in it at the time. In fact, this was one of his rare moments of clarity, which was saying a lot considering the fake Dean currently laughing at him. It hadn't helped that he had left the room. Obviously, he hadn't exactly had much choice, but leaving the range of the sigils that were forcing him to stay conscious, and to not die from dehydration or starvation probably hadn't been the best thing for him. It was likely what had triggered the hallucination. Unless he had been hallucinating whilst inside the room. He was certain there had been a voice telling him to move. It had felt real enough. Which would make sense, because he was certain he hadn't broken out of his chains on his own. But, the voice had not spoken to him since. Maybe, whoever they were, had given up on him.

* * *

"Okay, I got nothing." Dean exclaimed, throwing just another book on what he had termed 'the lost cause pile.' It landed with a thump, throwing dust mites into the air and earning him a sharp look from Sam. But, a moment later and Sam did the same, officially giving up his search. Dean felt his shoulders sag, and his insides clench with rage and various other emotions that he refused to acknowledge.

"There must be something." Sam offered, but his face was tired and there was no hope in his eyes. They had spent days rummaging through the Men of Letter's library and they had found nothing. Absolutely nothing. And they both knew that if it wasn't here, then it was extremely unlikely to be anywhere else. Sam had tried to search the internet, but there wasn't even any fucking lore on the damn spell. Dean was seriously contemplated bursting his way into heaven in order to throttle Metatron.

"Guys, I think I found something!" Dean paused in his extremely vivid fantasies of strangling the little bastard as Kevin called from his room. Dean shared a look with Sam, and was on his feet in an instance. Kevin emerged from his room, his face drawn taut, with dark, looming bags underneath his eyes, while his hair was matted to his head with grease. Dean made a mental note to ensure that Kevin was taking proper care of himself, but for the moment he was far more concerned by the notes the prophet held in his hands.

Kevin made a space for himself on the table where they had been sitting, and eagerly spread his notes out while the brothers peered over his shoulder with keen eyes. "It was in the angel tablet. It's a summoning ritual for a fallen angel." Kevin explained with a small smile, and Dean's eyes lit up immediately. A way to summon an angel that had lost its wings. Which meant, if Cas was out there, they could finally get him back.

"What do we need?" Sam asked, leaning over Kevin to better see the notes.

"That's the thing, you barely need anything. It's the same as a normal angel summoning ritual, except the sigil is different and you need an incantation," Kevin explained, his enthusiasm catching. Dean picked up the sigil that Kevin had drawn for them, committing it to memory in case he ever needed to use it again. It wasn't a particular hard sigil. It was basically just a circle, split up into four quadrants which were all filled with different symbols that Dean recognized from other summoning rituals he had performed. Kevin was right; it wasn't exactly a difficult ritual.

"Sam, do we have everything? Can we do it now?" He pressed, scanning Sam's expression as he read the ingredients that Kevin had written down. Then, Sam looked up, and with a smile nodded. Dean couldn't help but chuckle slightly, patting Kevin on the back as he did so. He started to clear the space while Sam set to work gathering everything they needed. Sam passed him some chalk and Dean set to work drawing the sigil. His mind was whirling, unable to fully believe that they had found what they needed. They could get Cas back. It had been almost a month, but finally they could get him back.

Once everything was set up, Sam passed him the incantation. Dean read it in his mind quickly, making sure he knew how to pronounce each and every word.

"Just say the angel's name after you've read the incantation," Kevin explained. Dean glanced at him but turned his attention back to the ritual at hand. Sam looked at him, and with a nod he lit the match and set the dish of herbs alight.

"Zod ah mah rah na ee es lah gee roh sah," Dean read the incantation perfectly. "Castiel." He added in a low voice, closing his eyes and waiting.

After a moment, he reopened his eyes, scanning the room for any sight of the angel. Opposite him, Sam frowned before looking at Kevin who responded with a blank look.

"I don't understand. It should work. You did it right." The prophet stammered, staring at the sigil, his eyes narrowed in concentration. Dean kept waiting. Waiting for Cas to appear. But time was quickly ticking by, and there was no sign. The three of them all looked at it other. Nobody said it. But they all knew. Either, Kevin had misread the tablet for the first time since ever, or Cas was truly gone and he was never coming back.

* * *

**Warnings: Torture. If you are interested, the incantation is the same as the one that Castiel used to try and find out where Anna was. Anyway, please review :) **


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay, have another chapter because I'm enjoying writing this and I can't stop. I hope you enjoy. And there are no warnings for this chapter, for once. **

* * *

The silence that followed that mutual realization was only broken by Dean, who in a flight of passion lashed out at the books and the various notes that Kevin had compiled on the table, knocking them to the floor with a loud resounding thud which made the prophet flinch. Sam however was far too consumed by his own thoughts to pay his brother's anger any heed, and he merely watched him stalk off torn between following him, or replicating his actions. Kevin watched him with wide eyes, before he turned his attention to cleaning up the mess that Dean had made in silence. Sam ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the stray tufts a little harder than necessary. After only a few seconds the weight of tension in the room grew too much, and he exited in the opposite direction of Dean, heading to his room.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his hands coming to rest on his thighs as every muscle in his body tensed. He didn't know whether he would be allowed to mourn. He cared about Cas, of course he did, but Dean had priority over him when it came to the angel. He knew that it was up to Dean whether they would be given a chance to mourn, or forced though the process at lightning speed. But for now, his thoughts were on the angel. He had always felt a friendship for Castiel, but a part of him had always considered it to be one-sided. After all, they didn't have the same bond that Cas and Dean had for each other. But then, they hadn't been given the same time. First, Sam had been the boy with the demon blood; the abomination. Then, the boy with no soul. And once he got his soul back, it was only a few weeks until they discovered the truth of Castiel's betrayal. It struck him for a moment how the two of them had never been given the chance to work it out because Cas had fallen into insanity, the barriers of his mind blocking him from the real world. Then, there had been purgatory. For a while after Castiel had returned, Sam had felt that their bond had really started to grow. That maybe, this time he would be able to feel comfortable with calling Castiel a friend and knowing it wasn't just in his mind. But then the whole issue of Naomi and angel tablets got in the way of that. And now, it seemed Castiel was dead.

It was weird to think that. The finality of it all was somewhat overwhelming. Castiel had been thought dead before, but Sam didn't remember ever really grieving. Once again, there hadn't been time. But he had always felt a void of a friendship that could have been. He had always seen how his brother had reacted with poorly concealed sorrow. But, now it was weird. Strange in an inexplicable way. His mind could not begin to grieve because his mind could not perceive Castiel as being non-existent. He thought of the angel, and it felt solid. Real. And to think that that was gone was inconceivable.

Sitting alone in his room he wondered whether he should let the feelings wash over him until there was nothing left, or in typical Winchester fashion, lock them deep in the recesses of his mind to never trouble him again. Except they would trouble him. He knew that. Castiel wasn't exactly just another innocent they had failed to save. He had been their friend. They had been a trio; Dean, him and Castiel. To think that it was over, gone, was almost unbearable. And the manner of his death was still a mystery that they would probably never solve. Sam got the feeling that he would never find closure.

His hand wiped at his eyes, expecting them to feel wet with unshed tears, but they were dry. Sam blinked, feeling a stab of guilt which he quickly pushed away in favour of turning his thoughts to his brother. He wondered how Dean would be taking this. Undoubtedly, not well. Dean has always had a bond with Castiel which Sam had struggled to understand for a very long time. He knew they had grown closer in purgatory as well. To have that ripped away from him would be hitting the older hunter hard. Especially after that small flame of hope that they might find him again had been extinguished. With determination, he pushed himself to his feet in search of his brother.

When he returned to the library Kevin was gone, along with his notes and any sign of a ritual having taken place. Sam smiled sadly, imagining the prophet cleaning up everything so that the brothers wouldn't have to be reminded about what had happened. Kevin was probably blaming himself for this. Sam frowned, wondering what was going through the young prophet's mind. He knew that Kevin hadn't been overly fond of Cas, but he could not have been unaffected by the news. Even, if he was only affected by the change in the brothers' demeanour. Sam frowned, wondering whether he should go and check up on Kevin, but decided against it. He had locked himself in his room probably in an attempt to get away from the brothers' grief. Sam couldn't blame him.

Sam continued on, following Dean's footsteps. He had a faint idea where his brother may have gone, but was resolved to search the whole bunker if need be. But he didn't need to. The moment he opened the bunker door he sighted Dean sitting on the hood of the impala with a beer in his hand, facing away from him. Sam hesitated a moment, gathering the courage to approach him. When he finally did, he heaved himself onto the hood of the impala in order to sit beside his brother.

"Do you want to talk?" Sam asked after a moment. Dean looked at him from the corner of his eyes, taking a swig from the bottle which he held in his hand.

"No." Dean responded, his face emotionless as he finished off the rest of the bottle. Sam stared at him with a small frown. "But, you're going to make me anyway." Dean muttered with a miniscule twitch of his lips into what could have been a smile.

Sam did not reply, but simply watched Dean, waiting for him to choose the course of their conversation. Dean fumbled with the empty beer bottle, probably regretting not grabbing some more from the kitchen on his way out of the bunker. A minute had passed and Dean had still not said a word, but he did not want to force him. After a couple more moments, Dean let out a weary sign, turning his gaze on the far-away horizon.

"It's just..." Dean started, but then stopped, his eyes crinkling as he tried to think of a better way to begin. Sam bit his lip, hating to see his brother so unsure. "I keep wondering. It's been a month, and we've only just found out. We don't know when it happened, how it happened or even why it happened. I can't shake the feeling that maybe it was yesterday, that if we had only been a little bit quicker..." Dean trailed off, but it was clear he wasn't finished. He glared at his empty bottle, clearing wishing he had some more alcohol to consume. "I keep thinking that maybe it was hunters, using methods they learnt from us. Whether Cas would have realized we were the only ones who could have taught them that."

Sam gave a small nod, words escaping him. He hadn't really thought about that. That maybe, his death could be traced back to their actions.

"On the other hand, maybe it was something really stupid, like he tripped over a log or something." Dean added, surprising Sam somewhat. He couldn't tell whether his brother was taking his shot at a terrible joke, or whether he was actually serious.

"He's an angel Dean." Sam pointed out, cringing when he realized he had failed to use past tense. Thankfully, Dean didn't seem to notice.

"That's not what I meant." Dean muttered, his gaze lowering to the ground just below them. Sam frowned, his brows furrowing as he waited for his bother to elaborate. "It's just, we don't know whether he went down fighting, knowing his fate, or whether he had no idea what was coming." Dean explained, clearly having trouble articulating his thoughts but Sam understood nonetheless. He had thought about it as well. It was just the fact that they literally had no idea what had happened to him. Was it something brave and honourable? Or had he been lost, confused and then hunted by some egotistical bastards calling themselves hunters. The two images were fighting for dominance in his mind, but he realized that it didn't matter anyway. No matter what went down, the end result had been the same.

"We don't even know whether we are meant to blame him for the whole angel thing or what." Dean said, his shoulder sagging in defeat. Sam frowned.

"I don't think so. I think it would be difficult to blame him for anything now." Sam interjected his tone careful. Dean glanced at him, but whatever he was about to say was lost when his phone started to ring.

"This is Dean," he answered, his voice gruff. A few beats passed while Sam watched him with curiosity. "Whereabouts?...Okay, sure. We're on it." Dean finished, snapping his phone shut.

"What is it?" Sam pressed, slightly irritated by the interruption to their conversation. Dean looked up at him, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"A hunt," Dean said, chewing his lips before clarifying. "An angel hunt."

* * *

**Warnings: None. Please review, curious to know whether this chapter invoked an emotional response or not. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay, I'm so sorry it took me ages to update this chapter. I actually completed it ages ago, I just never got round to uploading it as I've been overwhelmed as of late. Hopefully you enjoy this. Also, thanks for all the reviews :)**

* * *

Dean fiddled with the phone in his hands, trying to process what Garth had just informed them of. There was apparently a clan of angels within 5 miles of the Men of Letter's bunker that were causing some serious problems. As in, murdering innocent people as they sleep problems. Dean bit his lips, wondering what the possible motivations were. Angels weren't like other monsters, they didn't just act on instinct, and they always had a reason. Even if it was a shitty reason.

"Dean, you coming?" Sam questioned already holding the passenger side door open. Dean frowned at him. He didn't expect Sam to just accept the situation so easily. After all, this was an _angel_ hunt. Dean couldn't help but feel that it was like a betrayal after they had just learnt about Cas's fate. Although, he supposed that he couldn't put angels above humans just because his best friend was dead. He just couldn't.

"Yeah, just give me a sec." He responded after a moment, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. He hesitated, Sam's eyes scanning him like a hawk, before he finally made his way back to the bunker. "I just need to grab something." He muttered, his mind decided.

He walked slowly, his grip on the empty beer bottle tightened until his knuckles turned white. He wanted so desperately to drown his sorrows until he was too numb to feel them. But he needed to stay focused. Now, of all times, was not a good time to lose himself in his grief. Yet, it did not stop the swirling void of anguish from seeping through his body until he felt like a lead weight. When he found himself in the library he paused. The air was fizzling with some inexplicable emotional charge and Dean felt like his body could not handle it. It was like he was floating, his sense of reality crumbling while he watched on, encased in some glass prison of his own making. He clenched his teeth together, setting the bottle down on the now empty table. He flexed his hand, trying to regain a sense of feeling in it.

He continued his sombre walk, his feet leading him when his thoughts refused to surface beneath the cloud of fog stifling his brain. It was probably a good thing that his brain was not functioning properly, because otherwise he would not be contemplating what he was about to do. As it was, the impulse driven emotional wreck was running the show, desperate to do whatever it took to restore his emotional equilibrium. As he reached his destination, he paused, the palm of his hand hesitating on the multitude of locks he was about to open. With a determined gleam in his eyes, he unlocked them all within seconds and pushed the large door open.

It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, the only light source in the room coming from the now open door. He blinked, taking a few cautious steps towards their prisoner. He heard the clink of chains which signified movement, and out of instincts his hand hovered over his concealed weapon, even though it would be of little use.

"Hello boys," the croaking imitation of a British accent that greeted him took him by surprised. He bit his lips, wondering about the flicker of humanity that had been awakened in Crowley. "Or_ boy_. Where's the moose?" the demon corrected, now beginning to sound a lot like his old demonic self.

"Can you still make deals?" Dean asked, ignoring his question. Crowley's eyes narrowed in the darkness, and Dean shifted, trying to look as threatening as possible.

"Of course." Crowley responded with unconcealed arrogance that made Dean grind his teeth together. "What does the little mermaid want?" he said with a smile, and Dean wanted nothing more than to choke him.

"I want someone brought back from the dead," Dean explained, unwilling to give too much away before he was certain of Crowley's intent.

"Oh, a Winchester bringing someone back from the dead? What an expected turn of events," Crowley muttered his voice dripping with sarcasm. Dean was seriously beginning to wonder how this demonic asshole could ever have been human. Even if it was only for an hour. "What do I get out of this deal of ours?" Crowley said, cutting to the chase.

"Your freedom." Dean responded with a triumphant smile, knowing that it was something that Crowley could not resist. It was like holding a steak in front of a starving dog. On the other hand, he wasn't looking forward to when the others found out what he had done. Still, he didn't care. They could deal with any possible repercussions once they had Cas back.

"Fine. Who do you want me to Frankenstein?" Crowley asked, coming to stand as close to Dean as his bondages would allow. Dean furrowed his brows, contemplating the fact that he might be forced to kiss the son of a bitch for the greater good.

"Frankenstein was the creator you dumbass," Dean retorted. Crowley raised an eyebrow, and the hunter decided that perhaps the bastard had a point. He quickly returned to the point. "Cas."

"Cas? As in Castiel, _angel of the lord_?" Crowley stuttered, imitating Castiel's husky voice as he quoted him. "Sorry. No can do."

"What? Just because he pissed you over, you're going to sacrifice your freedom?" Dean exclaimed, approaching the demon as anger flared within him. "If you don't do this, I will make you regret it." Dean growled, the unspoken knowledge of the fact that Dean could make him do exactly that igniting the space between them. Crowley did look somewhat nervous by this threat, which meant that either he was fucking intelligent, or he was a cowardly little human bastard, and either way, Dean didn't give a flying fuck because he was going to tear this son of a bitch apart if he didn't bring back Cas right now.

"You think this is because of our little piss off?" Crowley hissed, his fear being replaced by the perfect mask of indignation. "He's an angel you twit. I can't bring him back because it's physically impossible for anyone, apart from God, to do so because no one knows where the hell they go, if they do indeed go anywhere." Crowley spat, the words shattering any resolve that Dean still had until he could do nothing but lash out. He punched Crowley, the sickening crunch that greeted him sending a spark of satisfaction that was immediately drowned out by the wave of grief that was no longer being held back. Crowley crumpled to the ground, seemingly taken by surprise but Dean had already turned his back to him, stalking out of the room and slamming the door behind him, fastening the locks in rapid succession. He leaned back against the door, the weight of the world seeming heavy on his shoulder, until he couldn't hold it back any longer, and a heart-wrenching sob ripped itself from his chest.

He crumpled to the floor, sobs that he was desperately trying to hold back wracking his body. His throat tightened against the tidal wave, and he tried to take a deep breath, but he couldn't. His body was shaking, and with each tear drop that escaped, he felt himself becoming more and more empty. His hands came to his face, simultaneously trying to wipe the evidence of his breakdown from the world, and trying to stifle any noise by biting down hard on his hand. He didn't want to be doing this, but he had long since sacrificed any bodily control. The knowledge that Cas was gone for good had shaken him beyond any chance of recovery. The hope that had been holding this whole thing back had been shattered, and now he was left desperately trying to pick up the pieces, despite how futile it all was. Memories trickled to the surface, painfully tugging at him, and he tried to push them away. To shut himself down so he didn't have to feel all of this. But it was useless. Cas was gone, and he would never see him again. Not even if he managed to make his way to heaven, because Cas wouldn't be there. He wouldn't be anywhere; for the rest of eternity. That realization spawned a new wave of sobs that completely overtook his body, shaking it until he was scared it was going to rip him apart.

"Dean?" He stiffened as he heard the tentative approach of his bother. He shifted away slightly, unable to help but feel unbelievably pathetic. He couldn't help it-years of conditioning to be the man of the family had taught him that no matter what happens, you don't cry in front of the people you are meant to protect. He snorted; like he had ever been able to stay strong enough to do that. He had been an emotional wreck for years, and it was always Sammy that was catching him when he fell. And now, Sam was doing it again. Coming to sit beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into a makeshift hug so that Dean was crying into his younger brother's chest.

They sat like that for a good ten minutes, Sammy rubbing soothing circles into his back. Dean was thankful that Sam didn't force him to speak. Sam didn't even ask what he was doing outside of the dungeon where they kept Crowley, although he had properly guessed. Dean imagined Sam waiting for him to return, and as the minutes ticked by realizing what Dean was up to. He imagined his brother speeding through the bunker, desperate to get there before it was too late, unwilling to think about what his emotionally weak brother was about to give to the former king of hell. And Dean felt guilty, but he knew, that had Crowley been able to, he would have made that deal without regret.

As his sobs started to come to an end, and his eyes were dry and free from any more tears he pushed himself away from his brother, running a hand down his face to destroy the remnants of his previous crying. Sam watched him, his eyes calculating. It took him a few more moments to fully regain himself, but once he did, he felt tired and old and oh so empty. Numb, but not numb enough.

"Come on. We've got a hunt to do," He said with a sigh, his voice coming out a lot smaller than he would have liked, but there was nothing he could do about that now. He pushed himself to his feet, Sam mimicking his actions. He started to walk back to the impala, moving quickly so that Sam had no choice but to follow him or get left behind. Sam did not speak, but his eyes sparkled with concern.


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay, well I don't actually know how long it has been since I updated, but I feel like it has been a long time. Anyway, here's another chapter. And, this chapter is also about 3X longer than usual. I tend to aim for around 1200 words because that's what I prefer when I'm reading fanfic, but I don't know, which do you prefer? Anyway, i think this chapter needed it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and as always please review :)**

* * *

"So, what's the plan?" Sam asked. Dean glanced at him, rearranging his grip on the steering wheel. He hadn't really been thinking about a possible plan. He hadn't even been thinking about the hunt. He mentally berated himself. He needed to focus.

"Um, well we're meeting up with Ivr and another hunter called Tracy, so we'll see from there." Dean said with a shrug. Sam did not look completely satisfied, but he didn't press the subject any further. They both knew Ivr from years ago, when their dad had still been alive. He was a good hunter, even if he wasn't exactly the friendliest of persons. Tracy on the other hand was unknown to them. She was one of the new 'angel hunters' that had been popping up all over the world, but Ivr assured them that she knew her stuff.

The journey passed in a daze. Dean's movements were automatic and without thought and he knew that his mindset probably wasn't the best for the difficult hunt they had coming. Nevertheless, he could not raise the energy to care. In what could have been minutes or hours-Dean was too distracted to tell-they found themselves pulling up into a rundown diner where they had arranged to meet Ivr and Tracy. Dean left the car in silence not even bothering to spare Sam a look. He couldn't deal with his brother being all touchy-feely at the moment. He just needed to get on with the job until he got himself sorted. He could deal with this if he just kept doing what he always did.

With a shaky breath he approached the diner, keeping a tight grip on his gun. It did not take him long to spot the two hunters in the corner of the diner. Dean met their eyes and nodded, leading the way while Sam followed just a step behind. Ivr's mouth twitched into what could have been a smile, but his face remained passive. Old, calloused hands reached out to shake his with a grip that was far too tight before moving onto Sam. Across the table a woman with dark hair that flowed to her shoulders and brown twinkling eyes watched them with interest. Had he been in a better mood he probably would have sent her a flirtatious smile hoping that he was going to get lucky. She was definitely a high 9 in his books but he could hardly fathom the energy to care on a day like today.

"So," Sam started when they had all sat down, and everyone directed their attention towards him which made him shift uncomfortable. Dean remembered why he didn't like working with others. Awkward silences were never fun. "You said you had a hunt for us?"

"We already know everything we need to, we just need some back-up to help finish them off." Ivr replied, his eyes crinkling. It was obvious from his tone that he was trying to emphasize that the brothers were only needed for the advantage of numbers and that he and Tracy had already done everything else. Dean decided to ignore this and instead turned his attention to Tracy, who had so far been silent.

"Can you fill us in on the details?" Sam asked a little too sharply and Dean sent him a questioning look which his brother did not acknowledge. Apparently Sammy wasn't satisfied to be just the brute. Dean huffed. _Nerd._

"There's a group of angels-about ten-taking residence in an old factory a mile from here. We've got some holy oil in the trunk. We're going to trap them and then use the banishing sigil to destroy them." Tracy explained in a voice that was lower than what Dean had expected, but still had a soothing, yet rough quality to it.

"Kill them with a banishing sigil?" Dean questioned, raising his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner. Tracy smiled at him in a way that was a little too patronizing for someone that was meant to be new at hunting. Dean bristled under her stare.

"Well, there aren't a lot of angel blades to go round you know. If we can trap an angel in a ring of holy fire, we can then use the banishing sigil to effectively rip them apart. It's not exactly pretty, but it gets the job done." Tracy elaborated, and Dean had to conclude that it was actually quite a clever solution to the whole angel problem. He had been wondering how so many hunters were able to kill the angels with such limited equipment, but now he knew. He was slightly annoyed that they had never thought to try that. It would have solved quite a lot of their problems. It was a wonder that Cas had never told them that; if he had even known in the first place.

"What did the angels do? Garth said they were killing people, why?" Sam added before anyone could start formulating an exact plan. Ivr made a strange snorting noise that seemed to emanate from the bottom of his throat. Dean raised an eyebrow at him as he noticed the corners of his lips curl upwards into a smile that he shared with Tracy.

"Look boys, in all honesty you were the last people we thought would offer to help us. You're not like your father; you have a soft spot for some of these creatures you're meant to hunt and you two are renowned for befriending that angel of yours." Ivr started and Dean felt a surge of anger flare within him as he clenched his teeth together, sharing a look with Sam to decide whether they should just accept the accusation or fight against it. He had forgotten how ruthlessly blunt Ivr could be. He was the same breed as their father, but without the excuse of blood to let him get away with it. Bringing up his father sounded like an insult, although he had come to realize that maybe his father hadn't always been right, but the inclusion of Cas to this conversation was like a direct slap to the face. "We're not saying you're wrong to care so much, but you can't go about putting the lives of monsters above the lives of humans. I don't give a rat's ass why these feathered dicks are doing anything; all I know is that they are killing people. So if you are done with asking all the who, whys and whats, then can we get on with discussing the actual course of action?"

It was very silent after that outburst, no one really knowing how to react. Tracy stared down at the table, twirling an idle finger through a thread of hair. Sam was leaning back slightly, his muscles tense and Dean could see that he had closed his hands into tightened fists, but his younger brother was looking at him out of the corner of his eyes, waiting to see how Dean would react. He swallowed heavily, his eyes were narrowed and gleaming in a frightening way, but Ivr matched his gaze without hesitation.

"Castiel is dead." Even Ivr's cold stare faltered at the hidden rage that boiled beneath each perfectly articulated word. Sam blinked at him, as if he thought that Dean would shatter under the weight of those words. But he was determined to stay strong. He knew what the facts were. Saying them out loud hardly changed anything.

"I'm sorry, son," Ivr muttered after a few tense seconds. Whether he was apologizing for his earlier outburst, or for their situation, Dean didn't know, although he suspected it was the latter. Still, it helped to defuse the atmosphere somewhat and considering everyone at this table was carrying some form of concealed weapon that was definitely a good thing.

"Likewise," Tracy chimed in and Dean glared at her very unsympathetic tone. "Anyway, back to the plan. We will set up some traps-aiming for about two angels per trap minimum- and we will also have someone manning an angel banishment sigil in case something goes wrong and we need to banish them for our own survival. I assume you two brought the angel blades, so we can also hold them off with that. So, the first person-armed with an angel blade-will enter the building first and make the banishing sigil as well as the traps. Once given the signal, or after ten minutes, the rest of us will enter from different directions. This will force the angels to split up, enabling us to lure them more easily. Keep an eye on the floor so that you know where to lure the angels to and have your lighters at the ready. They can't fly anymore, so all you have to do is make sure they run towards you and then trap them." Tracy explained, gesticulating wildly with her hands in order to convey her point. Next to her Ivr was beaming with pride that Dean couldn't help but think was somewhat unwarranted. After all, it might not be the worse plan in the world, but it was far from the best. Although, he supposed that was what you had to deal with if you were hunting something as powerful as angels.

"Okay. We'll follow you in the Impala." Sam agreed with a faint nod, pushing at Dean until he exited the booth and made his way to the door, the two other hunters hot on their heels. Dean didn't say anything as he watched Ivr and Tracy climb into the front of a black Volkswagen Caravelle with narrowed eyes. A second later and he was in the front seat of the Impala, turning the ignition and waiting for the other two hunters to lead the way.

"Well, Ivr was exactly how I remembered him," Dean muttered a minute after they had pulled away from the diner. Sam huffed in agreement and Dean found himself relaxing into an easier routine.

"Yeah, and Tracy was just lovely too," Sam added, his voice dripping is sarcasm as he pulled his signature bitchface. Dean laughed at that, nodding in eager agreement.

"So what, you think they're sleeping together?" Dean said with a grin, watching with amusement as Sam gave an exaggerated groan.

"Dean, he's old enough to be her father."

"Always knew he was a kinky bastard." Dean added with a dry chuckle, and Sam merely shook his head not bothering to reply.

Dean couldn't deny that it was nice to be able to mess around with his brother for a bit. It was almost like the good old days: before hell. Or any of this crap. But as he thought about it more, his smile faltered. Because suddenly this brief moment of reprieve seemed hauntingly similar to every other moment in his life where he had relaxed somewhat only to have everything good ripped away from him. And he had already lost Cas, so all he had left to hold onto now was Sammy. He clenched his teeth together, more grateful than ever that he had made that deal to save Sam from the effects of the trials. Even if it turned out that strange man was a demon and he was on a one-way train to hell. He wouldn't care. He had sold his soul for his little brother once, and if that's what this new deal required, then he knew he would all too willingly give it away again.

The car in front of them screeched to a halt, and Dean jumped, smashing his foot down on the brakes in order to avoid a collision. Dean was out of the car in a second, sprinting towards Ivr who was looking infuriatingly calm.

"What the hell was that!?" He shouted, his hands clenching into fists. Ivr gave him a reproving look, but it was Tracy who spoke up.

"Keep your voice down," she scolded, pointed towards the field at the left side of the road. Dean glanced over and saw that she was indicating the factory that was well-shielded by the wild shrubbery that had been growing since its abandonment. Dean glared at her, and then Ivr. He was convinced that they had stopped so suddenly just to annoy him by messing with his own brakes.

Sam appeared next to him and handed him one of the angel blades and a jug of holy oil. Tracy then approached him carrying her own jug and then tipped half of it into Dean's before returning the rest to the car.

"So, who's going in first?" Dean asked. He was met by three sets of identical stares before it finally dawned on him that he was the only one holding the holy oil for a reason. He rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Of course." He muttered, and stomped his way through the field towards the factory. However, he wasn't that bothered. He knew that if Ivr or Tracy had offered to go he wouldn't have trusted them not to have ulterior motives. Just another reason why he did not enjoy working with others.

It only took him about a minute to make his way to the factory. He raised an eyebrow, seeing no sign of angelic interference. Then again, from what he had heard, the majority of the angels were trying to stay hidden until they found their bearings. Which raised a question of why these angels were killing people? Still, he wasn't here to think, and he was hardly in the mood to do so. With less hesitation than what was probably required he entered the factory. He kept the angel blade at the ready and resisted the urge to turn on the flashlight. It would merely give his position away to the angels, and he was positive that they could see in the dark. Although, he didn't know for sure. He had never thought to ask Cas what their exact abilities were. Maybe when Kevin finished deciphering the angel tablet they would discover everything they needed to know for hunting angels.

He made a circle of holy oil just in front of the main entrance, before creeping towards the side entrances. He made a couple more circles on the way in random places. The factory wasn't what he had expected. It was mainly just corridors and he had yet to find the main room. He frowned. This wasn't exactly the best place for a showdown. This was probably why the angels had chosen this place. They were after all soldiers. Once he had located the two side-entrances and set up the holy oil he decided to delve deeper into the factory. They would need to draw the angels out in order to trap them. He opened two more doors, and walked down several corridors until he found the entrance to the main room. He was quiet, but the thudding of his heartbeat was drowning out his senses. He didn't like how he had yet to find a single angel.

Cautiously, he opened the door, pressing himself back against the wall when he was met by a sliver of light that was drifting in through the broken windows that circled the room. There was very little equipment actually left in the factory, just rows of rotting table which gave no indication of what the factory's original purpose had been. He scanned the room, but there was still no sign of life. But, there were plenty of hiding places which could be concealing any number of persons watching him without his knowledge. And that was _definitely_ a relaxing thought. Still, that just meant he needed to work faster. Within seconds he had set up four circles equally spaced in the room, but when he peered into the jug he realized he did not have enough oil left to make another. He would have to rely on the circles he had already made that were scattered across the building. Throwing the jug to the ground he turned his attention to the blade in his other hand, where he made a small incision just below his elbow. He watched the blood bubble up for a moment before he got to work. The symbol was crudely drawn, but it would serve the purpose.

Then he was left in a silence so overwhelming that he was aware of the ringing vibrations in his head. He raised the blade in a defensive move, his eyes scattering around the room as he waited for the inevitable attack. Nothing seemed forthcoming. He took a deep breath and reached for his phone in his pocket, fiddling with the buttons until he could hear the ringing tone. A second later and he could hear Sam's voice through the line. He muttered an affirmative before hanging up, waiting for the rest of the hunters to get here.

As he was struggling to get his phone back in his pocket he heard the approaching footsteps of someone rushing towards him. Discarding the phone, he wielded the weapon and spun round in hopes of catching the person of guard. But, he was too slow and they managed to dodge the attack. He was unbalanced and the angel used this to its advantage, throwing him against the ground where he tumbled for a moment before he was able to get back onto his feet. But not for long because the angel charged again, and a solid fist collided with his face and he was spiraling back onto the ground. A boot came plummeting towards him and he rolled, only narrowing missing it and winching when it smashed against the ground: denting it. As fast as he could he managed to get back onto his feet, and saw that he was faced with not one, but two assailants. He circled them, blade poised at the ready. The one who seemed to be the leader of the two-what appeared to be a young, blond haired man dressed in a black suit- was pushing towards him, its face twisted into a feral snarl. The other angel-an older woman with flowing threads of ginger hair- stood at his shoulder, eyes baring into Dean with a terrifying ferocity. He remained defiant, even when they both simultaneously armed themselves with their own angel blades.

They both lunged at him, and he found himself pushed backwards until he was solely on the defensive. Even without their wings these angels were fighting solidly as a unit. They divided from each other, the female angel twisting round until her blade was set to pierce his exposed side. He saw the motion from the corner of his eye, and swung his own blade round until it impaled her chest. With a scream and a burst of burning light she crumpled to the ground. There was no scorched imprint of wings. The remaining angel released a guttural scream and barreled into Dean, until he found himself pinned on the floor. He tried to defend himself as his face was pummeled by fists, but all he could do was squirm uselessly. After a moment the angel seemed to remember that it had a lethal weapon, and the blade glinted dangerously as it was raised above his head.

Then, the angel opened its mouth in a silent scream and light filled Dean's vision, even with his eyes shut. When he reopened them, he was able to push the empty shell of an angel off of him and was helped to his feet by Sam, who was wiping his own blade on his jeans in order to get rid of the freshly spilled blood. He mumbled a thanks before heading towards the sounds of battle that was originating from a corridor outside of this room. A small part of him remembered that he was meant to be manning the banishment sigil, but that could wait. He needed to be tearing into flesh at the moment if he wanted to get his mind sorted.

But before he could get there three more angels appeared in the doorway, blocking his path. Too late he skidded to a halt, and he found himself being thrown backwards. Again. He groaned as he hit the floor, but forced his tired body to get him back on his feet. Sam came to his side and started to pull him backwards. Dean was about to push him off, before he realized what Sam was trying to do. The angels kept approaching, their faces animalistic. Dean had never fought angels that acted like this. They were like animals backed into a corner. They were so beyond desperate.

As they secretly passed over a circle of holy fire, he grabbed the lighter in his pocket, waiting for the angels to do the same. However, it was clear that they weren't all going to go into the circle of holy fire at the same time. He glanced at Sam as the first one stepped into the circle, who had obviously figured out the same thing. His brother gave a curt nod. They could trap two angels at least and kill the other one. The second that both angels were in the circle he threw the lighter and the holy oil ignited in a blaze of flames that had the angels rearing backwards. Dean saw the flash of panic that filled their eyes even while their faces set into a stoic mask. The third angel stared in horror, and the brothers wasted no time in approaching it, blades at the ready. It looked between them and then did something completely and utterly unexpected: it ran. Dean looked at Sam, contemplating whether they were to chase it. The two angels that were trapped had fallen silent and were merely watching their former comrade flee from the room.

Any thoughts of chasing the angel was extinguished when Tracy appeared in the room, shooting at two more angels that were eagerly following her. The brothers went to her aid, realizing that she did not actually have an angel blade. But before they could get to her she had thrown her own lighter on the ground and another circle of holy oil ignited, trapping two more angels. She gave them a strange look that Dean had no chance of deciphering. Whatever it was, it didn't seem to be good.

"The other three are trapped!" Ivr growled as he cautiously entered the room. Dean gave him a once over, not noticing any significant injuries. The guy was still a good hunter, even if he was even more of a dick than they remembered.

"Just three? There should be one more!" Sam pointed out, and Ivr frowned at him. Dean groaned when he realized that it was probably the one that they had let escape. Still, didn't mean he had to mention that it was their fault to the two hunters that happened to have a stick up their asses.

"No, we killed the other one." Ivr said after a moment. Sam frowned, but choose to hold his tongue. "Do the thing, Dean." Ivr adds, distracting them from any more chance of processing what had just happened. Dean glances at Sam, whose face is blank. With a mental shrug he rushes over to the wall where the banishing sigil is already prepared. Turning round so that he can see what happens, he slaps his hand against the drying blood.

The room explodes in a ball of throbbing light that has Dean falling to the ground as it vibrates viciously throughout his body. Their screams fill the room, and every single piece of glass shatters. The windows smash, and glass comes showering down on them from the sky. Peeling an eye open, he watches with morbid fascination as the trapped angels are seemingly torn apart by invisible talons. Chunks of flesh are ripped off, leaving nothing but seeping blood and an all-too bright white light. The ring of holy fire hisses and rages against the trapped angels; tendrils of flame wrapping them in a burning embrace that has their screams magnifying tenfold. Then, everything gets too bright and too loud, and he doesn't know what is happening. Minutes pass, and he knows he can't possibly comprehend the agonizing end that this form of death must be. Because the screaming never fucking stop. He wonders if his experience in hell is comparable, and decides that the pain is probably equal. It must be ten minutes before the screams stop and he is able to open his eyes again. All that greets him is the blackened ground stained with black oozing blood, and the imprint of what must be the remnants of human flesh. He feels small shudders engulf his body as he immediately wonders if this was the end that Cas faced. And suddenly, going on this hunt was the worst idea he has ever had.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hmm, I got some 'positive reviews' for my last chapter. I say positive, a lot of it was emotional ramblings at how cruel I was to the angels. I do however consider a passionate response to be a positive thing. And, thank you for them, it was a pleasure to read and definitely made me want to write this chapter as soon as possible in order to satisfy all you needy people. Anyway, guess we have finally made it to the chapter that you have all been waiting enjoy.  
**

* * *

Castiel could feel the shudders that were running down his thin frame begin to cease. The endless palpitations' were still thundering through his mind, but he could feel his muscles twitching as they were returned back to his conscious control as the effects of the drug started to wear off. He took a deep breath, but was cut off by a splatter of blood that ripped itself from his throat. He twisted his head slightly so that he wouldn't choke. He scanned his surroundings, trying to ignore the way everything kept twisting and lurching in order to focus on trying to spot his captor. There was no one to see.

That was often the case when they drugged him. He had come to realize that it was their way of keeping him in pain when they were too busy to spend the time actively torturing him. It did mean however that he was often left with a couple of minutes to recover before the next onslaught of agony. He closed his eyes, trying to push pass the burning beneath his skull, but he was forced to open them again when it became too much. He didn't know why he even bothered to try. He just kept hoping that maybe the sigil would wear off temporarily and give him a moment of reprieve. But that hadn't happened. Except for that little escapade when he had managed to make it to the corridor, and even then, he had been punished with hours ( or days or even weeks-he had no way to tell) of vivid hallucinations that would have left him a trembling mess even without the constant torture. He had come to conclude that he had never actually escaped in the first place and it was just a ruse by his captors to bring him further misery. Still, it had been bitterly sweet to see familiar faces, even if they had only served the purpose to sneer and inflict nothing but agony on him.

He froze when a breeze of air tumbled towards him. He tried to crane his neck but he could not see the source from his bound position. Although the room had always been cold, there had never been a draft. He thought he heard the ruffle of feathers but he knew that couldn't be the case because he had already been told that the angels had lost their wings. Still, he was certain that there was actually someone there; probably his torturers. He had already started to withdraw back into his mind in preparation for the oncoming torture, when a firm hand on his shoulder prevented him from doing so. He didn't know whether to panic; the torturers had never touched him in this sort of way. This was almost comforting, except for the unrelenting strength that was pinning him down.

There was a click and it took him a moment to fully comprehend what was happening. It wasn't until he felt the leather strap peel away from his neck that he realized what the stranger was doing. He was held in place by the hand as the rest of his bindings were torn away with a strange ferocity that betrayed the stranger's urgency. When he was finally freed the strength of the grip lessened, until the hand was just a hovering presence. But Cas did not even think to move. He was too lost in his own mind to remember that this was happening to him rather than someone else.

"Come on Cassie, don't make me carry you," a voice that was simultaneously soothing and mocking complained. Cas couldn't decide whether the voice was familiar or not, but when he finally twisted his head to look, he did not recognize the man he saw before him. He frowned at him, trying to push himself of the stone slab he had been chained to, but his body wasn't fully responding. His helper gave a small huff, rolling his eyes. Cas glared at him, but he couldn't stop shaking and in the end the man had to guide him. Cas almost crumpled the minute his feet connected with the floor, but a strong arm wrapped around him, keeping him upright.

"I'm sorry about this Cas, I really am," the stranger mumbled in his ear, and before he had time to wonder what exactly the man was talking about he found himself standing in the center of what appeared to be a field. The cool wind nipped at his exposed skin and he gasped in surprise. A second later and his head felt like it was imploding. White light streamed across his vision and he clawed desperately at his head. He took a blind step forward and he stumbled, his knees buckling until he was lying on the ground. His fingers burrowed into the earth, and he would have marveled at the mud beneath his fingertips had it not been for the fact that every muscle in his body was screaming in agony. His stomach clenched painfully and his mouth opened in a silent groan; no sound able to escape from a throat that seemed too tight and too dry to cooperate with his demands. Even the need for sustenance could not penetrate the haze in his mind that screamed for sleep, and with the absence of the sigil he felt his eyelids slipping close. He knew that it was too cold to stay here, but he just wanted sleep. Briefly he wondered where the man had gone, for he knew that he was alone now.

That was until he was stirred from his slumber by the pounding of feet and the click of a gun. He blearily opened his eyes, trying to crawl away from the man that stood in front of him, a gun trained on his every movement. He smiled slightly as the man continued to yell at him, closing his eyes as he awaited the shot that was to end all of this. It never came. The trigger was pulled, but the gun jammed and the man cursed. His eyes opened again, and from afar he saw the silhouette of the man who had helped him. Somehow, he had a feeling that the gun had jammed due to the interference of his helper. But it didn't matter now, because the man had grabbed a fistful of his hair and was yanking his head back so that his neck was fully exposed. Then, the man slipped a blade out from his jacket and when he recognizes it as belonging to the heavenly host he starts to wonder whether this man is a man at all, but he stops contemplating this when the cold metal is pressed against his throat.

"Ivr, Wait!" The scream of desperation makes him jump. The man- Ivr -does not release his grip, but merely grinds his teeth together in obvious frustration. Cas is too busy listening for the approach of the other man; he recognizes that voice. He tilts his head slightly, trying to focus on the source of the sound but his world is still spinning. "Ivr, I said wait." It's a growl and a warning in one, and Cas is surprised to hear it so close to him. He can feel the newcomer's breath on his skin as he talks. He barely registers the blade being pulled away from his neck, too busy staring at a face he thought he would never see again.

Sam is talking to him, but the words are blurring together now. But he reaches out in spite of his own faltering movements, trying to find the contact with the hunter that he so desperately needs. Sam is watching him with obvious concern, but he sees the action and pulls Cas closer to him into a makeshift hug. Cas finds himself relaxing into the warmth; content now to surrender to the blissful nothingness. But Sam is telling him to stay awake, and despite Cas' relief at seeing the younger Winchester again, he can't help but wish he could be left to sleep in peace.

Hands are surrounding him now, shaking him so that he can't drift off. He watches as Sam rips his own jacket off of himself and wraps it around Cas' shaking frame. He tries to murmur a thank you, but once again his mouth won't produce the sounds. He tries to express his gratitude by relenting to Sam's desires for him to focus on the present, but it is hard because everything is slipping away.

"Get Dean!" Sam shouts at Ivr who has been watching the entire exchange with an unreadable expression. Cas startles as the sound pierces through his body, and Sam sends him an apologetic look, hugging him tighter. Dean. His mind focuses on the one word and his lips twitch into a small smile. It would be good to see Dean again. Sam and Dean. That would be very good. But his body isn't listening and he can tell he won't last much longer. "Shh, Cas. Hold on buddy, hold on." Sam keeps whispering soothing words into his ear, and Cas is surprised to hear the slight tremble of his voice. "We're not losing you Cas. Not again." These words don't seem directed at him. They are whispered to the air, and Cas has to strain to hear them. Sam is now rubbing soothing circles on to his back and Cas melts into the overwhelming warmth and comfort that engulfs him. Even when Sam starts shaking him, he can't prevent his eyes from closing as his body surrenders to the need for sleep. He thinks he hears Dean's voice just before his loses consciousness, but he doesn't know for sure. He wonders if he'll ever wake to hear it again.

* * *

**Well, hope you enjoyed that, and don't worry you'll get a lot more of this nice reunion stuff next chapter. Also, a lot of the clues for what are going on have been in this chapter and the last. Just a nice little unhelpful hint. And yes, Ivr is a dick and Tracy is a bitch. They're so fun to write.  
**


	10. Chapter 10

**Okay, well I'm glad that you you guys liked the reunion of the last chapter, so you get a bit more now. I was going to make this chapter longer but then I felt like it had come to a natural end and it would be too long if I continued. I tried to listen to you suggestion to shorten the paragraphs, but honestly I didn't go to much effort to do it, but I did end paragraphs earlier than I normally would have. Also, if you are wondering why Cas doesn't have any injuries, it's because the angels have healed him of his injuries, and then drugged him. The last he had since he last healing was the drugging so he has no physical injury. Just in case you are wondering.**

* * *

Sam left the factory, his eyes squinting against the light despite the fact that the first touch of night was upon them. He wiped his blood-stained dagger on his trousers, trying to expel the image of those screaming angels from his mind. It was not a nice way to go, especially for a species that was not inherently evil. As a hunter he had always prided himself on only being vindictive when absolutely necessary: when someone he cared for was being targeted. But that just now felt wrong; unclean. And he couldn't help but be infuriated by the serene calm that was radiating from Ivr who was walking slightly ahead of them with his head held high. Sam hadn't seen much of Tracy since they had completed the hunt, but he imagined that she was just as proud of her actions as Ivr was. Briefly he wondered what had happened to make them hate angels so much, or whether it was just the way they reacted to anything that wasn't fully human.

The ground shook and Sam stumbled, his mind snapping to attention as he scanned the surrounding area. There was an obvious displacement further down the field where the crops appeared to have been trampled in a perfect circle. Within the circle he could vaguely distinguish a humanoid form, but it was too far away to decipher any details. Next to him, Ivr had stiffened and had one hand reaching towards his gun. Dean didn't even seem to notice the disturbance, his eyes staring into space as his body seemed to move on auto-pilot.

"A banishing sigil I expect. It should be weakened; I might be able to kill it easily." Ivr explained without prompting, already sprinting towards the figure that was no longer within Sam's eyesight. He frowned, unable to help a small flicker of concern over the fact that the figure had collapsed so suddenly.

"How does he even know for sure?" Sam asked, turning towards his brother who was leaning against the stone wall. Dean did not respond, his eye merely flickering towards Ivr with an unreadable expression. Sam shifted on his feet. He had no idea how to deal with his brother's self-imposed silence.

"Dean," he tried, scanning Dean's reaction. His face remained unchanged and it seemed that he wasn't even aware of Sam's presence. Sam felt his confidence slip, and switched to a different tactic in order to encourage some form of communication from his older brother. "Where's Tracy?"

Dean was very slow in responding. He tilted his head to face Sam and pushed away from the wall with a shrug. "Doing something with their car," Dean explained, his voice low and gruff. Sam furrowed his brows, wondering what exactly that entailed and why it had to be done right at this minute. It didn't make much sense, but then, neither did anything about those two hunters. They were too secretive, yet too invasive.

"I'm going to clean up," Dean said, quickly turning tail in order to re-enter the factory. Sam watched him leave with a sad smile, knowing that there was nothing left to clean. The bodies- the ones that remained-had been burnt, and all human/angelic remains had been buried. He contemplated following his brother, but knew that there was nothing to gain from it. Sometimes people just needed to have some time alone.

Turning his back on the factory, he started to reluctantly follow Ivr. He wasn't eager to see yet another angel die, but he had to be there to act as a buffer if this was just some innocent guy that had managed to get himself zapped to crazed-hunterville. He doubted that Ivr would stop to listen to reasoning unless someone was there to make him. He started jogging to catch up when he realized that Ivr was within mere feet of the newcomer. He could see the figure a lot better now, and felt a pang of sorrow as he noticed the guy's pitiful state. He was naked, and clearly the cool crisp air was taking its toll on his exposed body if the relentless shudders that wracked the small frame were anything to go by. It definitely didn't look like something that needed to be killed.

His heart was thudding in his chest as his run turned into a sprint as Ivr decided to level his weapon at the man's head. Then, the figure raised his head to meet Ivr's stare, and Sam felt his breath catching in his throat. There it was all of a sudden; Blue eyes, black hair, and that unmistakable face. The face that he had thought he would never see again. Sam let out a cry, but it got stuck in his throat as he pushed his body beyond its limit in order to get there before the trigger was pulled. It was futile. Logically he knew it was futile, but what could he do? Just give up and go home?

He didn't know what happened, but whatever it was, it must have been some act of God, because the gun didn't work. It must have jammed if Ivr's frustrated expression was anything to go by. And Sam couldn't believe his luck because there was no way he would have got there in time. Even now, he's too far away to even be heard by them.

But his relief does not last, because a second later and Ivr has removed his own angel blade from his jacket and is yanking Castiel's head back so that his neck is completely exposed. _Ivr is clearly enjoying taking his time, _Sam thinks bitterly. Either that, or time has just slowed down for them, caught as they are in this dangerous moment. He keeps running, but he knows he doesn't have much time now so he yells as loud as his lungs will allow.

"Ivr, wait!" He sees the hesitation, and he knows that he has been heard. His certainty is only verified by Castiel's obvious reaction to his voice, and he wonders what is going through the angel's mind. He feels that tiny flicker of the contempt he has for Ivr explode into a blazing white hot inferno as it becomes clear that Ivr is not going to listen to his commands. But he is confident now, because he has already reached that circle of trampled crops and he reckons that he can be intimidating enough to stop Ivr acting when they are in such close proximity.

"Ivr, I said wait," he growls, rushing towards Cas and fixing Ivr with a fiery glare that makes it clear that Sam will follow through with his un-spoken threat. Ivr's eyes narrow, but he reluctantly removes the blade from Cas' neck. Sam kneels next to Cas, his heart tightening as he fully observes the state of their angel. He is shaking, and Sam can feel none of the usual resilient strength within Cas' muscles. And he is drenched in blood, but Sam can't find any wounds, despite Cas' obvious weakness. He starts carefully exploring the angel's body with his hands, trying to detect any serious injury, but there is nothing, except the strange jutting nature of his bones which seem barely covered by a stretched layer of skin. The skin is pale-more pale than usual- and he wonders how the angel managed to get so skinny when he doesn't need to eat. Or maybe it's just because this is the first time he has seen Cas without his usual attire.

Cas turns to look at him for the first time and Sam doesn't know how to react. He has always felt trap when under Cas' intense stare, but now it seems to be lacking something. Perhaps it's because Cas' eyes are dilated and his gaze seems unfocused. Or perhaps it's the impossibly dark bag underneath his eyes that are a stark comparison to the white haggardness of his skin.

"Cas, what happened?" He tries, but Cas doesn't appear to be able to hear him. "Cas, Castiel, talk to me?" He says again, his voice taking on a desperate note when he notices Cas' drooping eyelids. He tries to shake him in order to get him to engage, and it seems to work. Sluggishly, Cas reaches out for him with an arm, and for a moment Sam doesn't know what he is trying to do. When he realizes, he can't help the mixture of uncertainty and shock that boils within him, but he dismisses it in favor of pulling Cas towards him into a makeshift hug.

He regrets the decision when Cas starts to relax against him, his head resting on his chest as his breathing slows. It's quite obvious that Cas is about to surrender to unconsciousness and Sam can't let that happen. "Cas, stay awake." He says, keeping his voice stern. Cas doesn't react, so he shakes him again and then realizes with a start how cold Cas' skin truly is.

Without a moment's hesitation, he is tugging at his own jacket in order to wrap it around Cas, stroking his arms in an attempt to stimulate some warmth. Cas takes the jacket, wrapping it tightly around himself. His eyes open, but then close again as he starts to lean back into Sam. Sam can see his eyelashes flickering in his failed attempts to stay awake and he feels a pang of sympathy and fear.

"Get Dean!" He yells at Ivr, who has been circling them for the past few minutes with an unreadable expression on his face. He feels Cas jump against him and knows that he has startled the angel. He glances at him apologetically, pulling him in tighter as he glances back up at Ivr who has yet to move. Apparently he doesn't need to shout again, because his expression does all the talking, and Ivr skulks away with a barely concealed look of hatred.

"Shh, Cas. Hold on buddy, hold on," he whispers as he rubs soothing circles onto Cas' back. He is glad that Ivr is gone, because he could not properly tend to Cas when he was worried about being attacked from behind. But, he still wishes that Dean would get here quickly. They both need him at the moment. Sam doesn't know how to progress from here, and Cas is failing in his battle to stay awake. If anyone can keep the angel clinging to consciousness it's Dean.

"We're not losing you Cas. Not again," he mumbles to himself, sure that Cas is well beyond being able to hear him. He is surprised at the weakness of his voice and he quickly tries to swallow his grief down. He did not properly mourn when he believed Cas to be dead, to mourn now would be illogical. Yet, when he had thought that he had lost Cas, he had been confronted with all the regrets he had surrounding the angel, and now they were viciously taunting him and he doesn't know what he will do if Cas doesn't make it through this. He doesn't know what Dean will do.

"Sam?" As if on cue Dean's voice cuts through his thoughts, yanking him back to the present. He tries to turn to his brother, but he finds his range of movement limited by Cas' weight. He realizes that Cas has fallen unconscious, and he tries to gently shake him awake but it doesn't seem to be having any effect. His heart clenches in panic, because Dean has only just got here and Cas needs to wake up.

"Is that..." Dean starts, his voice dubious yet hopeful. Then, the reality of the situation must dawn on him because he curses and launches himself to the ground next to them. "Cas?" Dean calls, taking Cas' body away from Sam, who scrambles away slightly, but still keeps a hand on the angel's shoulder.

"I don't know what's wrong with him," Sam confesses before Dean can start demanding answers. His older brother glances at him briefly, but his eyes return to scan the angel's limp body, his brows pinching together in concern.

"We need to get him back to the bunker," Dean says after a moment, securing an arm beneath Castiel's legs and one under his back in order to lift him up. It's amazing how easily Dean is able to lift the angel, and they both share a look of worry. Dean visibly swallows, and starts the trek back to the Impala. Sam hovers a few steps behind, wanting to help but not knowing how to.

It does not take them long to get back to the car as Dean has managed to keep a good pace. But when they get there they are greeted by the disapproving faces of Ivr and Tracy. In fairness, Tracy looks more curious, although her lips are curved downwards in a frown and her fingers are twitching by her knife, while Ivr is already gripping his knife, his features twisted into a scowl.

Sam stands in front of Dean as he struggles to fasten Cas into the back seats of the impala. When he is done with the task, Dean comes to stand beside him, glaring down at the two other hunters.

"Is he an angel?" Tracy asks, her eyes flashing dangerously. Sam looks at Dean, contemplating lying, but his brother is not looking at him.

"Yes." Dean says defiantly, his tone warning them to do something. Tracy shakes her head, her lips curling into a silent snarl. Ivr glowers at them, before craning his head to look into their car. Sam feels his muscles tense as he prepares for a fight, but Ivr simply turns away and heads back to his own vehicle. Tracy watches him go, and with a flick of her hair she is following him, but not before sending a final glare their way.

"You drive," Dean says, throwing him the keys as he goes to sit with Cas in the backseat. Sam blinks at him, still caught up in watching Ivr and Tracy disappear into their car. He waits until they drive off before he slips into the front seat of the impala and turns the ignition on. He looks at his brother and the angel in the mirror with a small frown as he pulls away.

* * *

When they pull up at the bunker Dean wastes no time in hoisting Castiel up and carrying him in. They don't have time to worry about the arrangements; they're too stressed about Cas' general well being. So, Sam merely follows Dean as they burst into the bunker and run for the nearest room.

Kevin is sitting on the couch, flipping through some magazine before he jumps at the sudden disturbance, whipping round to face them. His mouth opens as he goes to say something, and then he forgets to close it again as he takes in the situation. His eyes widen and he tries to stutter something, but Dean seems to be oblivious to the prophet, too focused on Cas to pay Kevin any heed. Sam sends him a look that says they will explain everything once they have the time, and Kevin meekly nods, watching as they leave the main room.

Sam rushes ahead to open the door to one of the spare rooms, knowing that Dean would be likely to kick it down in his haste. His brother grunts in response, and makes his way to the bed, gently settling Cas down on the mattress. Sam thinks about getting some sheets, but that would require moving Cas again and neither of them want to do that if it isn't strictly necessary.

Dean stares down at Cas, his expression softening, even as he chews on his lip with obvious concern. After a moment it seems to become apparent to him that Cas is still nude, only faintly covered with Sam's jacket. With a moment's hesitation, he leaves the room, returning a few seconds later with a large duvet which he immediately wraps around Cas' small frame, and a couple of pillows that he places beneath Cas' head.

They both watch the sleeping form beneath them, with no idea what they are actually meant to do. Dean's hand has found its way to Cas' forehead, and he swears under his breath. Sam jumps at the sudden noise in the otherwise silent room.

"He's burning up," Dean explains, and Sam notices the thin sheen of sweet that has collected over Cas' skin. Sam frowns, not liking the way that the angel has managed to switch from freezing cold to having a high fever in less than an hour. Then again, at least it meant that his body was fighting the infection.

"I'll get a wet towel," Sam offers, not really knowing what else they could do for Cas. Dean nods at him, and he leaves the room, his mind lost in a thick haze. It isn't often that they have to try and treat Cas for something. The last time that had happened had been after he had lost the angel tablet, but then he had mostly healed on his own. It had just been a matter of stopping the bleeding.

But there wasn't any bleeding now. There was just blood. An awful lot of blood for that matter, but no actual injuries. Which probably meant that they would just have to sit this one out and wait for Cas to pull through.

He headed for the kitchen, grabbing a towel and running it under the cold water tap. As he is waiting for the spray of water to get cooler, Kevin appears in the doorway.

"Sam, what's happening?" Kevin asks cautiously, taking a few steps into the room.

"Honestly? I have no idea." Sam confesses, "We were on a hunt and then Cas appeared. Just appeared in the middle of a field. I have no idea what's going on."

"Why didn't he appear before?" Kevin presses, not seeming satisfied with the answer. Sam turns to him with a shrug, his expression making it quite clear that he doesn't have any answers left to share.

He grabs the towel which is still dripping water onto the floor, and walks out of the kitchen. He expects Kevin to follow him, but he doesn't. He glances behind him, but he doesn't bother to wait, knowing that Cas is the priority at the moment.

He enters the room and pauses. Dean has pulled up a seat, and is currently hovering over Cas, one of his hands idly running through the angel's hair, the other hand resting on his chest as if feeling for the thud of a heartbeat. His brother stiffens as he walks towards him in order to place the towel on Cas' forehead, but Dean does not make any attempt to move.

"Why doesn't he have any injuries?" Dean asks after a moment, and Sam turns to face him with a frown. "He's covered in blood, and he's clearly not well, but there are no injuries." Dean elaborates, and Sam can detect the tinge of desperation in his tone. Sam glances at the ground, understanding what Dean is feeling like. At least if there was a wound, they could do something about it. But this waiting game is going to drive both of them insane.

"Maybe he's healed them already." He suggests, but even to his own ears it sounds false. Dean glares at him, but it has no strength behind it.

"Nothing about this makes sense," Dean mutters, his voice almost too low for Sam to be able to hear. Sam frowns, but nods anyway. A minute or two passes and Sam feels the adrenaline began to fade, and the exhaustion from the hunt starts to creep into his bones, sapping at any remaining energy he might have. A yawn assaults his mouth, and with reluctance he decides that it is better if he retreats to his own room.

He looks at Dean, and knows with complete and utter certainty that the older hunter isn't going to go anywhere. With a sigh, Sam leaves, praying that Cas recovers quickly.


	11. Chapter 11

**Okay, sorry for the long wait between chapters, but that might be quite a common thing as I become more busy, but I'll try to always update on the weekends at the very least. Anyway, thanks for the lovely reviews, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

Dean sat with his head in his hands, his eyes fixed on the all too still form of Cas. He had already done what he could, which included freshening the towel on his forehead and laying out some spare clothes for when Cas finally woke up. It wasn't much, but it was all that he could do. And Cas' fever had broken in the early hours of morning so it seemed that his actions weren't completely futile.

Still, with very little to do he had been left alone with his thoughts, a fate he would have preferred to have avoided. Everything seemed messy. From Castiel suddenly being alive; to hunters deciding to hunt angels. The whole world seemed to be crumbling and there was nothing they could do. He hadn't even been able to save his own brother without the help of some fucking stranger that was likely to betray them, because when did deals ever end well?

Sam was alive. Cas was alive. But he couldn't help but feel that there would be a price to pay for their safety. And he didn't know what he would do when the time came to pay their dues. If there was anything that he could actually do. For all he knew he might have already sold his soul for Sam. Again. And with Cas, when were resurrections ever good? Every time he returned to life he came back different. And never in a good way.

He couldn't help it. He cared for Cas. Cared enough to mourn, but he was no fool, and he could not forget when someone he had trusted stabbed him in the back. How often had Cas betrayed them now? The last time he had seen the angel, he had refused to listen to Dean's advice and had returned to heaven. The time before that he had run away because he didn't trust Dean. Both times had resulted in tragedy, all because Cas didn't trust him enough. And that was just the recent betrayals. There was a list that stretched back years of all the times that Cas had screwed them over.

Then, there were all the times that Cas had been there for him. All the times that Cas had helped them through impossible situations when God himself had turned his back on them. Even with the whole world after them, Cas had always pulled through. And maybe that was the problem. Because Cas wanted to be good. He wanted to be the hero which saved the world. And yet, his attempts to save a world had nearly ended up destroying it. And now, even heaven had collapsed because of him.

It seemed like Cas was cursed to always make the wrong choices. Maybe angels were never meant to have free will. Maybe all it did was corrupt them. But, at the end of the day, whose fault was it that Cas sought after his freedom? That was down to Dean. If anyone had corrupted the angel, it had been Dean.

Dean watched as Cas shifted in his sleep, his expression tightened in some unreadable mask of pain. It seemed that no matter what happened, Dean wouldn't leave Cas to just curl up and die. Because like it or not, they both needed each other now. No matter how many times they both tore at each others hearts.

He reached out to run a hand through Cas' hair in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. Cas released a breath of air, his body shifting towards Dean's outstretched hand. Dean's lips twitched into a smile, Cas' actions reminding him of a sleeping cat. It was strangely endearing.

Yet, even though Cas' body had relaxed into the touch, his expression refused to ease into any form of comfort. Dean frowned, wondering what was going through the angel's mind. Did angels even dream when they fell unconscious? He knew they didn't sleep in the same ways that humans did, but Bobby had told them that Cas had been injured once and had collapsed in his kitchen. Had he dreamt then?

Cas rolled onto his back, his eyes flickering as his brows furrowed. Dean held his breath, watching as Cas forced himself back into the land of the living. His eyes opened, scanning the room in a sudden panic-induced haze before they came to rest on Dean. Cas tilted his head, observing Dean with a quizzical expression.

"Hey Cas," Dean said, smiling slightly as his hand came to rest on the angel's shoulder. Cas blinked, but did not reply. "You okay?" He asked, a little more concerned by Cas' lack of a reaction.

"I am thirsty," the angel muttered after a moment of intense speculation. Dean raised an eyebrow at the request, but got to his feet in order to rush to the kitchen. He grabbed a glass and ran it under the tap for a few seconds until it was full to the brim before he returned to the room.

When he got back, Cas was struggling to sit up, but it seemed like it was an immense challenge for the angel. He was glaring at the duvet with pure undiluted anger as it tangled around his limbs, making his efforts all the more difficult. Dean released a low chuckle at the sight, which earned him a glare from Cas.

In apology he handed Cas the glass of water, which immediately took all of the angel's attention. Cas pressed it to his lips and chugged it down in a matter of seconds. Dean frowned as some of the water dribbled down Cas' chin in his haste to swallow it all.

"I didn't think angels got thirsty," Dean said, the inflection of his voice rising into what sounded like a question, but Cas didn't even seem to notice that Dean had talked at all. The hunter frowned as the angel continued in his struggles to get up.

With a sigh, he pushed Cas back down so that he was lying on his back. The angel blinked at him, confused by his sudden change of position.

"Just get some rest Cas," he ordered, keeping a firm hand on Cas' chest so that he knew he wasn't going anywhere. Cas frowned, but his body was all too willing to comply with the request and his eyes closed almost immediately. Dean took the glass off of him, and placed it on the nightstand.

* * *

It was just after dawn that Sam returned to the room. His brother did not say much, but simply commented that Cas was improving and that he probably just needed to sleep it off. Dean had mumbled something or other, knowing that his brother was merely trying to improve his mood. Dean didn't know what was going on with Cas, but he highly doubted it could be that easy. When was it ever that easy for them?

A few more hours passed and Sam had brought his laptop into the room and was currently researching angel lore. Dean half-listened to his musing, but there was nothing helpful in what he said. Nothing that related to Cas' current condition, or gave them any indication on how they were meant to progress from here. With a sigh he made a trek to the kitchen and returned with a six-pack in order to pass the time.

When he returned, he closed the door behind him. It closed with a barely audible click, but it seemed to be enough to evoke a strong reaction from Cas. The angel's eyes snapped open so fast that it was hard to believe that he had ever been asleep. Dean rushed over to the bed, wanting to say something but he stopped himself when he noticed the sheer look of panic that was shining bright in those blue, clouded eyes.

"Cas?" Dean asked cautiously, resting his hand on Cas' shoulder. Which seemed to be the worst thing he could possibly do because Cas lashed out, forcing Dean away from him while he scrambled backwards. Cas' eyes widened further as he found himself pushed up against the wall, and he didn't seem to understand that he could easily escape by just getting off either side of the bed.

Dean recovered and approached Cas again, trying to snap the angel out of this. In the corner of his eye he could see Sam hesitating next to him, clearly unsure about what he was meant to do. Dean ignored him in favor of gingerly reaching out to Cas, but the angel shied away and Dean felt his heart tighten. Dean could see that Cas was trembling violently, the bed rocking from the movements. His eyes were clenched together, crinkles spreading through his forehead like cracks in a broken mirror. Cas was clearly terrified.

"Cas," he repeated, his voice weaker than it should have been, his throat feeling strangely tight and painful as he observed his angel. He was caught between reaching out like he wanted to or backing away to let Cas calm down. He knew what he would do if it was Sam, so he went with his instincts and reached out for Cas, resting his hands on Castiel's shoulders.

Cas' eyes snapped open again; the blue seemed clouded by the black of his pupil and the dark ferocity that flashed in his eyes. His face became feral, his teeth bared in a strange curling frown as he lunged at Dean. Dean stumbled backwards as Cas' fist connected brutally with his chin, painfully snapping his teeth together.

Sam jumped into action, yanking Cas back by his arms which caused the angel to fall into another pit of panic. Cas made an animalistic noise which quickly turned to a whimper as Sam held him back. Dean recovered quickly, and went to aid his brother, trying to sooth the angel, but Cas merely reacted by flailing wildly as he tried to escape the tight grip of the brothers.

"Dean, let him go," Sam ordered, raising his voice in order to be heard over Cas' flailing limbs. Dean raised an eyebrow, but relented when Sam backed away first. Now unrestrained, Cas fell back against the wall, panting heavily as his body shook with tremors. The brothers shared a look, not quite sure how to approach this delicate situation.

It was Sam who made the first move, taking a few small steps towards Cas and sitting next to him on the bed. Cas jumped, his eyes snapping to Sam and scanning him warily but he did not make a move to get away. Dean watched this exchange, desperate to also help Cas, but as he made to move towards him Cas' eyes fixed on him, and Dean froze at the absolute terror in their depths.

"Cas," Sam said slowly, waiting until Cas turned to look at him before he continued. "You're at the Men of Letter's bunker." Sam explained, and Dean noticed that although Cas was still shaking and seemed to still be having extreme difficulty breathing, the fear in his eyes was starting to dissipate. He was looking at Sam with a strange intensity, as if Sam was the only link Cas had to the real world. "You aren't in danger. You're with us," Sam continued, his voice appearing to help calm Cas' breathing.

Sam reached out with a hand to Cas 'shoulder, his movements slow yet solid and were tracked with overly vigilant eyes. Cas went tense when Sam made contact, but after a few long seconds he relaxed into the touch, a spark of lucidity returning to his eyes.

"Sam." Cas murmured, his eyes flickering close as he leant against Sam. Dean shifted on his feet, unable to help the spark of envy as he saw his brother effectively calm Cas. If anyone should be doing that, it should be Dean. But instead all he was able to do was scare the angel.

Sam watched Cas, his eyes softening as the angel's breathing slowed as his body once more surrendered to sleep. Sam swung round so that Cas was now propped up against his arm, before moving the angel under the duvet so that he was lying flat on his back. Sam frowned, looking up at Dean with a flash of determination in his eyes.

"We need to talk."


	12. Chapter 12

**As some of you have panicked about the possibility of me not updating often, I should just point out that it's not definite yet, and at the very least you will still get one update a week, but it's very likely to be more. I just need to make sure this doesn't come above my academic education. Also, I'm curious how you react to this chapter, so please review. **

**Three cateogories of PTSD symptoms:**

**Re-experiencing the traumatic event**

**Avoiding reminders of the trauma**

**Increased anxiety and emotional arousal**

* * *

Sam yanked his brother out of the room, shifting on his feet as his body buzzed with nervous energy. He shut the door behind him, knowing that Dean would be too focused on the sleeping angel to pay attention to what he was about to say. And Sam needed to be able to articulate his thoughts properly, and he couldn't do that if he was casting concerned glances at Cas every few seconds.

"What?" Dean asked, his voice sounding almost indignant as he broke free of his brother's grasp and struggled to peer over his shoulder in order to see into the room where Cas was. Sam chewed on his lips as his mouth shifted into a frown.

"Dean, that was a panic attack." He pointed out, stressing the words in order to get his brother to fully understand the magnitude of the situation. It seemed that the older hunter did not.

"So?" Dean said with a shrug, but his expression had grown taut and lines were appearing around his eyes as he braced himself for the bombshell that was about to be dropped.

"Since when do angels have panic attacks?" Sam pressed, flailing his arms in an attempt to express what he was trying to say to Dean. Dean's eyes narrowed and his mouth turned into a tight line.

"What are you trying to say Sam," Dean asked, his voice flat and lifeless. Sam ran a hand through his hair, pushing away a few of the loose strands that had trespassed on his face.

"I don't know," he confessed, although he already had several theories forming in his head that seemed to point to only one solid conclusion. "But maybe the summoning didn't work for a reason."

There was a moment of deafening silence before either brother even dared to look at each other while they dealt with the shock of that blow. What was there that they could even say to that? They both glanced at the room, their brows furrowed in a simultaneous expression of unexplainable emotions that all magnified to rest heavily on their minds and souls.

"Maybe it's just because he doesn't have wings," Dean said after a moment, a note of desperation creeping into his voice. Sam choose not to respond, too busy dwelling over the troublesome thoughts that were currently invading his mind.

* * *

Castiel opened his eyes once the Winchester's had left the room. He jumped at the click of the door, but it did not invoke the same reaction that it had before. He felt more lucid now; his grip on reality was tight. For the moment at least.

He didn't fully understand what had happened earlier. His mind had been overwhelmed by that simple sound and his sleep-addled brain had immediately propelled him into his ex-torturer's mitts. For one brief moment he had thought that he was back in that god-awful chamber, the click of that door alerting him to the presence of his captor and his forthcoming torture.

Consciously he had been fully aware that he wasn't actually there, but it was too late. His body was reacting, adrenaline streaming through his muscles with nowhere to go; flooding his body until he found himself drowning. He hadn't been able to breathe. Hadn't been able to utter a single syllable. His body had felt possessed, shaken by some invisible force that he had no control over and he could feel his true self failing under such an impossible power. He had felt like he was dying. That somehow he had triggered a heart attack and he was finally going to reach his demise. But for better or for worse, that had not been the case.

The worse part had been his inability to accept the reality that was there for him to see. He had known where he was, but he had needed Sam to tell him before his mind could even start to comprehend the situation. He wondered if it would have worked if it had been Dean that told him. Probably not, because Sam had been the one that had been there when he had first been saved and his mind recognized that, however, his mind had also forgotten that this Dean was the real Dean, not the induced hallucination that had tormented him for a brief time. He had hurt Dean. He knew he had. Hurt him because he was scared of him.

Castiel felt regret and self-loathing swirl within his body as he contemplated the unfortunate situation that he had found himself in. Of course it was all his fault. Every moment could be traced back to his own foolish actions in some way. The punishments that had been inflicted on him had been warranted. The fact that his first reaction had been to attack one of the few people who had shown him any form of kindness merely solidified his own guilt.

He squirmed free of the duvet's grip, feeling its weight as nothing sort of constricting which only served to bring forth bad memories of being chained to cold surfaces. He observed his naked body, noticing that the brothers had not bothered to clean the blood and grime off of him, or dress him. He tilted his head. They had probably thought that he would be able to 'mojo' himself clean.

He glanced towards the door nervously, wondering if the truth about his new-found humanity would cause the brothers to desert him. He doubted they would, they weren't the type to do that. But he didn't imagine it would go down well with them. He was useless, and they were saddled with them. He couldn't imagine that was a fate that they would find desirable.

With a barely audible sigh, his gaze traveled over the small room, coming to rest on a pile of clean clothes. He briefly entertained the idea of putting them on, but he didn't know whether they were meant for him, and it might not go down well if they weren't. He frowned with indecision, and then tore his gaze away when he decided that he had taken too much already.

His mind focused on the stabbing hunger that reminded him of its presence by growling loudly. He felt his stomach tighten in a strange spasm as a wave of nausea overcame him. He closed his eyes, pushing it down as he tried to focus on his breathing.

He opened his eyes again when the brothers walked in, freezing at the sight of him. He tilted his head, wondering what was going through their minds. They seemed cautious-probably anticipating another 'attack'-but after a moment they seemed to relax somewhat, although their muscles still retained a strange tightness.

"Here Cas, put these on." Dean said, handing him the pile of clothes that had been carefully placed on the nearby chair. Cas blinked at him, pawing at the clothes in a strange fascination. After a moment he got the sense that it would be more comfortable for everyone if he just got dressed, and so he forced himself off of the bed in order to manoeuvre his limbs into the baggy attire. He realized that his vessel-no, his body-had indeed lost an awful amount of weight. Apparently the sigil that had prevented him from dying of starvation was not effective at stopping weight loss. Unless this was just another unpleasant side-effect of suddenly leaving the perimeters of the sigils.

Now that he was dressed in the ill-fitting attire, the bothers were staring at him with matching expressions. He squinted his eyes, trying to decipher what they were thinking, but finding the expression too complex for his limited understanding of the emotional responses of humans.

His thoughts were once again diverted to his body's cries for food. The lack of adequate nourishment was probably the main reason why he was feeling slightly wobbly on his legs.

"Do you want some food Cas?" Sam asked, eying the hands that had come to rest on Cas' stomach without his conscious consent. Cas nodded, his eyes wide and pleading, pleased that he had been offered something that he so desperately needed.

Sam looked at Dean, his facial features shifting minutely, causing Cas to tilt his head in confusion at the exchange. The brothers did not bother to explain. Sam led the way, while Dean came up behind him, resting a hand between his shoulder blades in order to guide him. Normally he would have complained about the irrelevance of the gesture, but he did not have the energy to put up a fight.

Dean sat him down at the table, while Sam disappeared into the kitchen. He heard the clatter of noise as cupboards were opened, and plates were moved and he waited while his mouth filled with saliva at an increased rate in eager anticipation of the food that was soon to come.

"So, how you feeling Cas?" Dean asked from across the table, causing the ex-angel to violently flinch as he had forgotten about the hunter's presence. Dean frowned, a flash of hurt in his eyes which was quickly pushed to one side. Cas glanced away, overcome by guilt as he once again hurt his friend.

"Fine." He mumbled, still not looking at Dean, although he could feel the hunter's eyes on him.

"Well, that's bull," Dean growled, leaning towards Cas so that the angel was forced to look up at him. Cas swallowed, feeling as if he had forgotten how to speak.

Sam returned at the moment, carrying a bowl of food that Cas did not recognized. He did however recognize the white liquid that covered the contents as milk, and frowned at the mixture of liquid and solid. Still he wasn't about to be picky when he was at risk of collapsing if he didn't get some food in him. He picked up the spoon that has been provided for him and started shoveling it into his mouth.

His body has mixed reactions to the sudden onslaught of food. On the one hand, there is the overwhelming sense of bliss and relief that makes him never want to stop eating. On the other hand, his stomach swells, an uncomfortable bloating sensation pressed against his all too sensitive stomach muscles. Still, he can't stop now. He needs this food in a way he has never understood before.

"So, Cas. What happened?" Sam asked, his voice gentle as Cas comes to the end of his food, licking his lips and craving more.

"Metatron. He took my grace, which was the final part of the spell to make the angels fall," he explained, and is stuck by the sense of time that seems to have passed since that event. It feels as if it happened years ago. It doesn't feel like it even happened to him, but to some faceless stranger who he has never met.

"Does that mean you're human?" Dean asked, and Cas thinks he can detect a hint of disappointment, although it is possible that he might be projecting his own feelings onto others. He glanced at Dean, and slowly nods, not feeling capable of fully answering that question.

"But you were gone for a month. What happened then?" Sam adds, his voice intense as Dean also levels him with a fiery stare. He tilts his head, hearing for the first time how long his imprisonment had lasted. Somehow it feels like such an insignificant span of time, and it distresses him in a way that he cannot comprehend.

"I don't know." He responded without thinking, but even with thought there is nothing else he could possibly say. How does one even begin to explain that they were tortured for a month and truly express what that had felt like? To say it would make it a meaningless event in his life. It felt like in some way it would make it all too real, but in the same way transform it into a dream-like fantasy. And he didn't want to talk about it anyhow. It was what had happened to him. No one else. So why should he share it? He had no physical wounds that needed treatment, so it did not fully matter. Besides, the two people sitting in front of him with quizzical stares had been through far worse. Both of them had suffered in hell for years. He had suffered on earth for a month. It didn't possible compare and therefore it didn't matter. It was not something to be effected by.

"The last thing I remember is Metatron," he adds before they can question him any further. They sit back, lapsing into silence as they stare at him. He glances down at his empty bowl, wanting to ask for more, but not feeling entitled enough to have it. In the back of his mind, the truth mocks him for his pointless lie, but he pushes it away. There is nothing more to say.


	13. Chapter 13

**Okay, this chapter is a bit longer as I wanted to make up for the lack of update for a week. Anyway, enjoy and please review as I'm curious to know what you think of this chapter. Also, there might be more than usual because it's 3 am, and although I proof read it, the words are kinda moving around the page and hard to focus on as I'm very tired. So yeah, hopefully there's nothing glaring, and I can fix it in the morning. **

* * *

Dean rubbed his eyes as he stumbled down the hallway, blindly following the faint hum of noise that was originating from what had become their living room. He groaned. It was early, way too early to be out of bed, but he had gotten up to go to the toilet and now the sound of the tv had him investigating. He knew it wasn't Sam, he had already checked on him whilst he was walking to the toilet, which meant that it was either Kevin, or much more likely Cas.

The ex-angel appeared to be adjusting to his new-found humanity okay, but Dean still felt uneasy. There had been some subtle shift in Cas' behavior that Dean wasn't able to discern, and it couldn't be just down to his humanity. Maybe it was the mysterious illness that had invaded his body. For the first few days after they had found him, Cas had spent the majority of the time sleeping, his body alternating between body wracking chills, and downright worrying fevers. When he finally did clamber out of bed he seemed to have had extreme trouble focusing, his face constantly going blank while his eyes darted wildly around the room. But he hadn't had any more panic attacks, as far as Dean was aware.

When he got into the room, he found that his assumptions were correct. Castiel was sat cross-legged on the couch, looking a lot more like he was currently in the process of intense meditation rather than simply watching tv. His body was only illuminated by the flickering glow of the tv which caused strange shadows to dance on the wall behind him. The moment that Dean entered the room, Castiel stiffened, his head swiveling around to glance at him. The ex-angel regarded him for a moment, before turning his gaze back on the tv screen.

"Cas?" Dean called, earning nothing more than a faint grunt of acknowledgement. He frowned, deciding instead that Cas' behavior was bugging him to no end, and realizing that he had no choice but to confront him about it.

Internally groaning, he plopped himself on the couch next to Cas. The ex-angel glanced at him, and shifted slightly to allow the hunter more access, but otherwise remained fixated on the tv. Dean looked at the screen, raising an eyebrow when he realized that Cas had been intently watching 'Teleshopping.'

"Dude, seriously? No one watches this crap," he complained loudly, reaching over Cas in order to steal the otherwise discarded remote. "You didn't buy anything did you?" he asked with a flash of panic, scrutinizing Cas with an exasperated stare who merely squinted at him.

"Buy?" Cas repeated, his face scrunching up into a ball of confusion. Dean's eyes softened, a small huff of laughter forcing itself past his lips.

"Yeah Cas, it's a shopping channel. What did you think you were meant to do?" he added sarcastically, unprepared for his response to make Cas look even more confused than he already was.

"I thought it was fictional." Cas pointed out, his brows furrowing as he sheepishly glanced at the ground. Dean hesitated, and then found himself laughing uncontrollable. He only managed to reign himself in when Cas scowled up at him, while still managing to look adorably pathetic. "Television shows are fictional." Cas stated through clenched teeth, although his voice was dubious.

"Not all of it. The news isn't, shopping channels aren't, and reality shows-which you are never going to watch-aren't." Dean explained, taking pity on the fallen angel. Cas' lips twitched as his face crumpled into a frustration-induced depression. The hunter froze, feeling a flicker of guilt as he realized how hard this must all be for Cas.

"Hey, it's no biggie," he said, trying to offer some comfort while keeping his tone light-hearted. Castiel did not respond. "Why are you up so early anyway?" He asked with a sigh, quickly changing the course of the conversation.

"Couldn't sleep," Cas muttered, purposely not looking at Dean, which made him wonder whether there was more to this story.

"I'm not surprised, you've done nothing but sleep for the past week." He pointed out, flickering through the channels to see if he could find something to perhaps lighten the mood. He was distracted in his searching by the loud rumble of Cas's stomach. "Dude, when did you last eat?" He exclaimed, glancing at Cas with a faint smile.

"This morning," he mumbled, and Dean blinked, wondering why Cas hadn't chosen to eat anything more.

"Don't tell me you weren't hungry," he said, gazing at Cas' far too slim body, and reminding himself that he had to get the ex-angel some clothes that actually fit him.

"I was." Cas responded, a faint trace of bitterness in his voice. Dean's brows furrowed together, not fully understanding where Cas was going with this, and hoping that it wasn't some misguided attempt to feel somewhat more angelic. After all, angels didn't eat.

"Why didn't you eat anything then?"

"I don't know how."

"What?" Dean exclaimed, Cas' meaning lost in the process of their conversation. Castiel turned to stare at him, as if willing the hunter to understand him better.

"I do not know how to prepare or cook food. I'm not even aware of what food requires cooking," Cas explained morosely, his eyes darting to the floor. Dean bit his lip, cursing himself for not realizing this earlier.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked, his voice laced with guilt. Cas tentatively looked up at him, but seemed unable to maintain eye contact. Dean felt some tug within his chest as he realized that Cas' humanity had changed him from the socially-awkward angel that he had known.

"I did not wish to be a burden."

"Idiot," Dean all-but growled, rolling his eyes so hard that it physically hurt. He switched the tv off, throwing the remote aside as he pushed himself onto his feet and grabbed Cas' arm, dragging the ex-angel along with him. Cas stared at him with confusion, but did not say a word as he let himself be forcefully guided to the kitchen.

Once there, Dean released his grip on Cas' arm, leaving him to stand in the middle of the kitchen. He searched the fridge and the neighboring cupboards, removing each food item and placing it on the table while Cas looked on, tilting his head slightly at the hunter's absurdness. Once everything was on the table, which didn't take long considering the fact that they had not bothered to stock up, he went over to stand beside Cas. He immediately started sorting the items into two groups- food items that required cooking, and those that you could just eat.

"Those," he started, pointing at the assortment of fresh fruit, cereals, breads and snacks, "are foods that you can eat whenever. You just need to pick them up and eat. No cooking involved." He explained, throwing a chocolate bar at Cas with a stern look that told him to eat it. Cas looked from him to the bar, before he peeled open the wrapper and took a cautious bite. As he chewed, his eyes lit up with pleasure as his face eased into an expression of bliss. Dean smiled.

"This stuff you have to cook," he added, frowning at the second group of food items, wondering how he could teach Cas to do this without burning the entire bunker down. "It's not too hard, but you need to know what you're doing." He explained, deciding to pick up a packet of burgers, remembering that Cas used to have a fondness for them, and besides they were quick and easy to cook.

He grabbed a frying pan and put it on the hob, slowly turning on the gas so that Cas could see what he was doing. Luckily, this was one of those cookers that did not leave the gas running if it was not ignited, so Cas had no chance of accidentally blowing them all up. Careful to explain exactly what he was doing, he placed four patties in the pan, aware of Cas intently analyzing his every move.

"It's mainly waiting for it to cook. Burgers take 15 minutes, but you have to turn them halfway through," he explained, turning round to face Cas as the patties sizzled in the pan. Cas had finished the chocolate bar and was now licking his lips, eagerly eyeing the rest of the food laid out on the table. "Help yourself," he offered, grabbing two plates and four burger buns in preparation for when the burgers where done.

Cas choose an apple, which caused Dean to shake his head, complaining about the sheer amount of health freaks in this bunker. Cas didn't seem to notice that hunter's complaints, so Dean dropped it, turning back to the burgers in order to flip them.

"So, are you okay now?" He asked, aware that it would still take a bit of time before the burgers were ready, and besides, he needed to have this conversation. Cas looked at him, swallowing a mouthful of apple before responding.

"Yes, I believe that my health has been restored." Cas said, furrowing his brows. Dean frowned, knowing that he would have to push to get anything more out of the ex-angel.

"That's not what I meant," Dean added, fixing Castiel with an unwavering stare. Cas looked up at him, taking another bite of his apple but not responding. "It wasn't that long ago that you told me you were suicidal."

"That was months ago," Cas retorted, but it was fairly obvious that he was just trying to avoid the main topic of the conversation. Realizing that he was convincing no one, Cas sighed, his gaze drifting to the floor. "I'm not sure, Dean. The emotional range of humanity is not something I fully understand, even when I experience it for myself." Cas confessed, the weariness of his voice reminding Dean of how old Cas truly was.

"You would come to me though, if it got too bad," he asked, his voice pleading and desperate. Cas looked at him, his mouth opening, but then he seemed to falter for he closed it again. Dean took a step forward, wanting to embrace his friend, but not knowing whether the gesture would be appreciated or not.

"I think the burgers are ready," Cas said instead, his gaze flickering over Dean's shoulders to where the now cooked burgers spat at them. Dean's gaze hovered on Cas for the moment, but the ex-angel refused to properly look at him, and he found himself unable to breach the solid wall that Cas had built between them.

He turned away, feeling as if everything had gotten so much heavier as he served up the burgers using the spatula. He placed them in the buns, squeezing a dollop of tomato ketchup on them, before he handed two to Cas, and kept the rest for himself. Cas sullenly sat down at table, his mind lost in his preoccupation with the food in front of him. Dean only finished own of his burgers, and gave the other one to Cas, as he busied himself tidying up the kitchen.

* * *

It was a few weeks after they had found Cas that Sam was woken by the sound of a disturbance near his room. His eyes flashed open, instinctively reaching for the blade he kept under his pillows. He reached out his senses, trying to figure out if someone was in his room, but the sound had come from the hallway. Deciding that he therefore had the advantage, he grabbed the knife and stalked towards the door, prepared to attack any trespasser. After a moment, which he took to completely focus himself, he forced the door open and burst into the hallway. He was not expecting the sight he saw.

On the floor, pressed against the wall sat Castiel, his body shaking violently as his eyes darted around the hallway nervously. He did not seem to notice Sam's arrival, which was somewhat worrying. Carefully placing the knife on the floor, he approached the helpless form, gingerly reaching out an arm in an attempt to pull Cas back to reality.

He startled at the touch, doubling over as he struggled to breathe. Sam glanced at the ex-angel desperately, feeling panic start to claw at him as he saw how bad Cas was. His shaking had intensified, and he was drenched in a thick layer of sweat that caused his baggy clothing to cling to his body as he made strange strangled choking sounds while he tried to breathe. For a moment, Sam thought that perhaps Cas was having an allergic reaction to something, or that he had been gravely wounded, but then he was reminded of that first night that Cas had been at the bunker.

"Castiel. You're at the bunker," he said firmly, remembering how he had managed to calm Cas the last time he had had a panic attack. This panic attack was clearly more severe, because Cas did not react to his voice in any meaningful way. Instead he reached out a hand, tightly clasping Sam's top and pulling him close. Instead of instinctively moving away, Sam did what he had done the first time they had found Cas and pulled him into a makeshift hug.

The shakes pummeling through Cas' body were muffled as the he was pushed against Sam's chest. For a moment they started to dissipate, but then they returned even more violently. Sam rubbed his back, murmuring soothing words in an attempt to calm him but the effect was minute. He clenched the ex-angel tighter, contemplating calling Dean, but he doubted that the older Winchester would be able to hear him from him, and besides, he didn't want to frighten Cas by shouting.

It took about five minutes before Cas eventually managed to stop shaking, but his breathing still sounded heavy and labored. Sam waited, hoping that the panic attack was coming to an end, as he had been completely unable to snap Cas out of it. Instead he had been forced to wait it out.

"Sam?" Cas croaked, his voice trembling. Sam released his grip when he felt Cas push against him, trying to free himself. Castiel looked up at him, blinking as he took in his surroundings. "What...?" He murmured, but broke off as his breathing hitched. Sam's brows tightened in concern, and he helped Cas to his feet and gently guided him into Sam's room and sat him down on the bed.

"You had a panic attack," he explained, his voice soft as he observed Cas' reaction. The ex-angel looked away ashamed and he made to leave but Sam pushed him back down.

"Sorry," Cas murmured, his voice still shaky but much better than it had been a few seconds ago.

"For what?" Sam retorted, his voice coming out a little harder than he intended as he tried to get his point across. Cas looked up at him, swallowing heavily but he did not respond. Sam frowned, feeling incredibly bad for the fallen angel, but also feeling out of his depth with this situation. He had a feeling that Dean would be able to comfort Cas more, and besides, Dean needed to know what was happening.

"Where are you going?" Cas asked, startled by Sam's movement towards the door. He glanced back at Cas, his eyes softening even as worry lines formed on his forehead.

"To get Dean," he explained, but Cas' eyes widened and every muscle in his body tensed.

"No."

"He needs to know. He can help," Sam pointed out, confused by Cas' sudden reluctance to include his older brother in the situation.

"Don't tell him." Cas pleaded, and Sam hesitated because he looked so pitiful and in such desperate need of help. "Please, Sam."

"It's nothing to be ashamed off," he tried to say, realizing that this was a matter of pride, but Cas scowled.

"I was an angel Sam, capable of laying wastes to the most powerful of nations, and now I can't even control my own breathing." Cas hissed, his voice strong yet underlined with a note of depressed desperation.

Sam took a deep breath, glancing towards the door and then back at Cas who was silently begging him to stay. He could understand where Cas was coming from, and he supposed that if he was in his position, he would have wanted as few people to know as possible. And it wasn't like Cas had no one to confide in. But on the other hand, Dean wasn't going to be happy when he found out.

Making up his mind he walked over to the bed and sat down next to Cas, seeing the relief wash over the ex-angel. Sam smiled tightly, but it didn't really reach his eyes.

"I won't tell Dean, on the condition that you come to me each time you have a panic attack," Sam said, his voice making it quite clear that it wasn't up for negotiation. "And, you answer my questions truthfully." He added, knowing that it wasn't a good idea to encourage the secrecy. Cas looked at him, clearly not happy with the offer, but knowing that it was the best he was going to get he nodded.

"How often do you have them?" He asked, starting with an easy question, deciding that now was not the best time to interrogate Cas. That could be done later, when they were both more calm and relaxed.

"Every day." Cas confessed, glancing at the ground as Sam raised an eyebrow. It had been almost three weeks since they had brought him back to the bunker, and as far as he had known, this had only been the second attack. Meaning that Cas was very good at hiding it, but also suggesting that the problem was far greater than Sam had previously imagined.

"Are you able to sleep now?" He asked instead, running a hand through his hair as he thought about all the times that Cas had been paralysed by fear and no one had known.

"I-I don't want to go," Cas said quietly, sounding very much like a child that thought they were about to be abandoned. Sam glanced at his bed and sighed.

"You can stay here," he offered, but Cas was already rejecting the idea, pointing out that Sam needed his sleep more. "I can sleep in the bed as well. If you want," he suggested timidly, knowing that the bed was big enough for the both of them. And besides, they both slept fully clothed, and he had slept in the same bed as his brother many times when they were younger. And Cas looked so unbelievable shattered that Sam had no choice but to offer if he wanted to do the moral thing.

Cas nodded, and Sam really wanted to hug him again because he just looked so lost, but he knew that Cas did not want to be reminded of his fragile state. So instead he switched the light off and settled under the covers, waiting for Cas to do the same a moment later. It only took a few moments for Cas to fall into an uneasy sleep as he was clearly drained from the whole ordeal. Sam watched for a while, before his own tiredness prompted him into closing his own eyes and following Cas into unconsciousness.


	14. Chapter 14

**Okay, sorry for the delay but this chapter didn't want to be written. Anyway, I did actually have to split it into two chapters as it was getting way too long, so hopefully that is okay.**

* * *

"Cas, for the last time, you're not going on this hunt," Dean snapped, gesticulating wildly as he struggled to get his point across. Cas merely narrowed his eyes, tired of the hunter's unreasonable behavior.

"I can help." He argued, ignoring the way that Dean shook his head in exasperation. Castiel clenched his teeth together, his body humming with rage. He glanced towards Sam, who quickly avoided his eyes, making Cas wonder whether the younger Winchester had said anything about his panic attacks.

It had only been last night that Sam had found out the truth-albeit not everything-but Castiel was not in any way comforted by this. He did not like feeling weak, let alone having others know how weak he truly was. They hadn't said anything more on the subject because Cas had slipped away before Sam woke up, unprepared for any further questioning.

"Cas, we don't need your help," Dean pointed out, his tone harsh with impatience. Castiel closed the gap between him and the hunter, staring into Dean's emerald eyes. Dean frowned at him, looking distinctly uncomfortable until his face returned to his previously hardened expression.

"I'm not a child that needs protecting," he hissed, carefully articulating every syllable. As he spoke his gaze flickered to Sam's, his eyes glowing with unbridled determination. For a brief moment he felt like the angel he had been: powerful and in control. But that moment was shattered when Dean forced him back with a hand to his chest.

"But that's the thing Cas; you are." Dean growled, his voice sending a biting chill throughout the room. Cas blinked at him, taking a step back as he turned to look at Sam. The younger Winchester was looking at Dean with a guarded expression, but he made no attempt to defend the fallen angel.

Castiel's hands tightened into fists and he felt the distinct need to lash out as his anger intensified into a bright hot searing fury. He contemplated punching Dean for his words, but he knew there was nothing to be gained from it. It would bring him only a brief satisfaction that would pass to be replaced with the sting of the knowledge that it had changed nothing. So, with a final glare at the two brothers, he turned his back on them, stalking away in order to release his fury elsewhere.

* * *

"That wasn't necessary, Dean." Sam scolded as he stared after the retreating form of Cas. Dean looked at him, his mouth twisting into an obscure frown while his eyes twinkled with guilt, but he banished the expression within a moment, rolling his shoulders back as if to assert his authority over the situation.

"Yes, it was." Dean retorted, his tone still fueled with impatience. Sam raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You know he would have kept arguing if I hadn't said something that pissed him of enough to leave."

"We could have let him come, you know." Sam argued, as he picked up his rucksack and followed Dean outside. Dean glared at him, sliding into the impala and throwing his rucksack into the back seat.

"What, have him come on an angel hunt? When he's clearly not well?" Dean exclaimed, a warning edge to his voice that Sam could not have failed to pick up on.

Sam choose not to respond, and the two settled into a somewhat uneasy silence. As the familiar tones of Metallica filled the car, Sam turned his mind elsewhere.

He had meant to have a talk with Castiel before he left, but Dean had been eager to leave, and Cas had been nowhere in sight, only appearing as Dean called out to him to tell him where they were going. Sam wished that the situation had been different. Now the atmosphere was just tense, and it was likely to remain like that for days. Sam wondered if this would cause Cas to back out of their agreement about his panic attack. Sam frowned, deciding that he would have a proper talk with Cas when they got back.

For the moment however he would have to occupy his mind with the upcoming hunt. Dean was right; this was not a hunt for the inexperienced. Another angel hunt, although this time they wouldn't have to work with Ivr or Tracy, which meant they could finish the job using much more humane methods. Sam wrinkled his nose, wondering when he had started to think of angels in the same way people think of cattle.

Still, there was an angel that seemed determined to terrorize all the so-called sinners of the small village it had landed in. It seemed that the majority of angels had decided to go on mini-vendettas in the absence of any heavenly authority. Although he still found it strange. Maybe it was because he still clung to the idea of angels being saviors, but somehow he couldn't wrap his head around them being just another monster that needed to be hunted.

He briefly wondered what Cas would think about this. They hadn't actually told him about the situation between the hunters and angels, nor had they mentioned any part about their involvement in it. Heck, Cas didn't even know that Ivr had tried to kill him because they thought he was an angel. It wasn't as if they were keeping it a secret. It was just something that didn't need to be said.

* * *

Kevin wandered out of his room for the first time in what felt like days. Brushing the hair out of his eyes he stumbled his way through the bunker. He already knew that Sam and Dean had gone on a hunt, which in a way had been a relief, because as of late he had been feeling extremely trapped in the presence of so many people.

However, there was still Crowley, although he wasn't going to be bothering Kevin any time soon. And of course, there was Castiel.

Kevin hadn't actually seen much of the fallen angel, mainly due to the fact that they were both introverts at heart but also because they hadn't actually made an attempt to seek each other out. If he was honest, he was a little scared of Castiel, even if he was human now. But underlining that fear, he was curious. He had been curious about the angels from the moment he had seen the shadow of Castiel's wings, but now he found himself curious about the actual Cas. The one that was now human.

But Castiel was nowhere in sight. Kevin frowned, pouring himself a glass of liquor and downing it in one, before deciding that he actually had nothing better to do than try and find the ex-angel. He had a vague idea where he might be. Castiel was of course a dedicated soldier, and soldiers liked to train.

As he suspected, Castiel was at the gun range, although instead of practicing with guns he seemed to be concerned with some strange body weight exercise that Kevin was certain a normal human being should not have the strength to do. Kevin remained silent, watching Castiel from the door as he perfected his form, droplets of sweat dribbling down his skin and drenching the clothes he was wearing.

"They never did get round to getting you your own clothes, did they?" He said as way of greeting, eying the crumpled mess of clothing that he was pretty sure that Castiel had been adorning for days. Castiel did not seem surprised at his sudden presence, but paused in his movements to tilt his head at Kevin in a quizzical manner.

"I don't understand why I need my own clothes," Castiel muttered, twisting his body so that he was sat in a kneeling position facing Kevin.

"Do you have anything of your own?" Kevin asked, raising an eyebrow as Castiel shook his head. Even Kevin had some sentimental artifacts he had managed to keep from his old life. He couldn't imagine not owning anything. Especially something as basic as clothes.

"Do you want to go and get some now?" Kevin offered, surprising himself and Cas. "I mean, I haven't been out of this bunker in weeks." He added, a little self-consciously, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. Castiel tilted his head, observing him in that strange owl-like manner of his.

"I would appreciate some freedom from this place." Castiel agreed with a nod, slowly rising to his feet. Kevin frowned at the choice of words but choose not to comment on it. This bunker was brilliant and all, but it wasn't hard to feel trapped by it, especially when Dean and Sam were so against them going out.

"You sure you don't want to shower first?" Kevin asked, wrinkling his nose at the slight smell that drifted from the fallen angel. Castiel scowled, looking down at his body as if it had betrayed him in its human way, but nevertheless he complied. Kevin smiled, before worryingly realizing that someone must have taught Castiel to shower. Kevin would put his bets on Dean.

* * *

It hadn't taken long to find the angel. Once more the creature had been ridiculously easy to track. Maybe it was because they weren't used to covering their tracks. After all, they were used to just flying away whenever they found themselves in trouble. And now, they couldn't even do that, and their power was limited.

"You're missing the bigger picture," she hissed from where she was trapped within a ring of holy oil. There was a note of pleading in her voice but it was buried beneath layers and layers of stubborn self-righteousness. Sam glanced at him, and Dean knew that his younger brother wanted them to listen to what she had to say. Dean rolled his eyes, but allowed her to keep speaking anyway.

"Bigger picture? You mean, bigger than all the innocents you've been killing?" Dean growled, pointing his angel dagger at her threateningly. To his surprise her expression became confused, tilting her head in a way that seemed inbred in all angels if Castiel was anything to go by. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a high pitched squeal that forced itself from her throat.

Dean's eyes widened, taking a step back as he realized what was happening. Her screaming intensified, and she crumpled into herself, sparks of light emanating from her body. He threw a hand over his eyes as the light became unbearable, and her screaming increased until it was shattering glass and making it feel as if his ear drums were bleeding. From this close distance he could hear the sickening snap as bones were viciously yanked apart, and the squelch of flesh as it was ripped from her body by invisible talons. Once more it seemed to go on forever, but eventually the light dissipated to reveal the melted mess of human remains within that still glowing ring of holy fire.

His attention was diverted from that grisly sight by a grunt of pain that came from his brother's mouth. He glanced up to see Sam sprawled against the far wall, his eyes clouded and dazed from the unexpected assault. Before Dean could turn to see their attacker he found himself in a similar predicament, groaning in pain as his body slammed against the wall harder than was strictly necessary.

* * *

They had been forced to walk as the brothers had obviously taken their car. Not that it mattered much, they both enjoyed the fresh air and besides, the town wasn't that far away. Castiel walked next to him, his eyes darting over his surroundings as if he was expecting an attack. Kevin couldn't blame him; they were both probably wanted dead by powers far greater than them.

"What was that exercise you were doing earlier?" He asked, breaking the silence as he thought back to that strange movement he had walked in on Cas doing. Castiel turned to look at him, a small smile forming on his face.

"Great Greek warriors used to do it. It was an effective way to both improve their strength whilst also demonstrating their current ability. I believe it died out just under a millennium ago. No one bothered to record the move." He said with of the authority of a published historian. Kevin supposed that in a way Castiel was a historian. He must have observed much of human history, and know more than any mortal. It was quite fascinating.

They had just made it into town, small shops popping up either side of them when Kevin decided that it was better to go to the main shopping center, as Castiel clearly needed a lot of stuff and it would probably benefit them both to eat. Castiel seemed content to just follow him, and Kevin wondered whether the ex-angel felt out of depth within such a human establishment. It must be strange to go from being angel to being just a pitiful human.

As they entered the shopping center Kevin dragged Castiel into the first clothes shop he saw. Castiel looked around briefly not really taking an interest in anything he saw. He suddenly felt quite uncomfortable as he realized that he would have to be picking out clothes for Castiel. With a sigh he grabbed a plain t-shirt and a leather jacket, deciding that Castiel would probably prefer a clothing style similar to Dean's. Castiel tilted his head quite obviously uninvolved with the whole shopping process.

"Why don't you try them on?" Kevin instructed, pointing Castiel to the changing rooms. Castiel narrowed his eyes, taking the clothes after a moment of hesitation before walking towards the changing room with trepidation. Kevin rolled his eyes before choosing to observe some clothes for himself as he waited.

* * *

Dean glared at the horde of demons that had gathered opposite him, the faint smell of sulfur assaulting his senses. He glanced at Sam, assessing his younger brother for any serious injuries but rather than a nasty gash to his head there was nothing too pressing, although Dean was pretty certain that he had a mild concussion.

"Well, well, well, look who caught themselves a couple of Winchesters," one of the demons sang, brandishing the angel blade that Dean must have dropped when he was thrown across the room.

"Oh, bite me," he muttered, struggling to break free from the magic that was pinning him to the wall but obviously failing. The demon smiled, twirling the blade in her perfectly manicured hands.

"With pleasure darling," she cooed, her eyes flashing to black. "But I think I'd better save you for the boss." She finished managing to sound disappointed that she couldn't have her way with him.

A couple of the demons walked over to him and dragged him towards a pillar where they restrained him with thick rope. He glared at them, but found himself unable to resist their power.

"The boss?" He questioned, a feeling of dread swirling in his gut. He knew it couldn't be Crowley seeing that he was currently in their dungeon, and the other options he could think off were anything but appealing.

"Abaddon," the demon said, her lips curling into a twisted smile. Dean felt his breath catch in his throat, looking over at Sam whose eyes had widened considerably as they both thought the exact same thing.

Oh shit.

* * *

As Kevin picked up a t-shirt that he decided would suit him, he found himself yanked roughly back a hand covering his mouth. He kicked out, trying to escape the tight grip but whoever was holding him clearly had the strength advantage. In desperation he flung his elbow back, hearing a startled gasp next to his ear as the grip loosened enough for him to escape. Spinning around he lashed out again, his fist connected with his attacker's face before he realized who it was.

"Cas?" the prophet asked, sending Castiel an apologetic look as he observed the slight reddening of his cheek. Castiel placed a finger on his own mouth, signalling Kevin to be quiet. Dutifully he shut up; watching with concerned eyes as Castiel cautiously gazed out of their hiding place. Seemingly satisfied that they weren't going to be overhead Castiel turned back in order to explain.

"Demons. Two of them."

"How do you know?"

"I can see their true faces," Castiel explained, brandishing an angel blade that Kevin hadn't realized he had been carrying. The sight of that glinting metal made him relax as he realized that they could actually fight their way out of this.

His relief faded as Castiel was viciously pressed back against the wall by a man with black eyes. Kevin jumped backwards as the demon glared at him while its grip around Castiel's neck tightened, strangling him. Castiel twisted and swung the blade upwards, embedding it in the demon's chest. The demon hissed, stumbling backwards as its body glowed momentarily before it dropped down dead.

Castiel fell away from the wall, rubbing his neck where faint bruises were beginning to form. Kevin stared at him with concern but his attention was diverted as he became aware that their hiding place had been discovered and he was pretty sure that there were more than two demons.

Kevin pushed Castiel forward, spurring the fallen angel into running, knowing that there were too many demons for them to fight with just one blade. Castiel stumbled, but regained his footing in time for their escape route to be blocked by two more demons. They skidded to halt, glancing around to find themselves surrounded by six demons. Castiel pushed Kevin behind him, raising his blade protectively as he fell into a fighting stance.

"Castiel," one of the demons growled, revealing its own angel blade. Castiel stiffened, staring at the creature with the first trace of fear since they had been under attack.

"Who are you?" Castiel hissed, twisting slightly as one of the other demons moved behind them.

"Hael," she responded, matching Castiel's fighting stance. Something seemed to shift in the air and Kevin knew he must have missed something.

"Sister, there is no need to do this," Castiel pleaded, and suddenly Kevin realized the magnitude of the situation, because the thing they were currently staring at wasn't a demon, but an angel. He looked at the other five creatures surrounding them and noticed immediately that all but one of them had an angel blade, and that one stood alone with glowing black eyes. They weren't just fighting demons, they were also fighting angels.


	15. Chapter 15

**These chapters seem to be getting longer and longer. Well, I hope you enjoy this one. **

* * *

Acting fast, Castiel launched himself at the demon, neutralizing it with a quick slash of his blade. This however stirred the four angels into action. They all charged at him, moving with inhuman speed which barely gave Castiel the chance to push Kevin out of harm's way before he was being forced to retaliate with his own blade.

He managed to block the first attack, the ferocity of the strike causing his arm to vibrate as the clank of metal on metal pieced the air. He struggled backwards; twisting just in time as a blade narrowly scrapped passed his abdomen. Blindly he lashed out; he felt his blade sink into flesh and an explosion of light followed, momentarily stunning him. He found himself left open to attack, another's blade biting into the flesh of his arm, causing him to cry out.

He tried to scramble away from the pain but found himself trapped by Hael, who sliced her blade into his hand, causing him to drop his own weapon. He clenched his teeth together as he desperately kicked one of the angels away from him, but Hael had grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back, limiting his movements. A moment later and his legs were kicked out from under him and he found himself kneeling on the floor.

Two blades were pressed against his neck, forcing him to look up as two of the angels clasped him by the shoulders in order to keep him restrained. Hael released her hold on his arm, circling him until she was standing in front of him. He shifted backwards, but the blades pushed harder against his neck until it was difficult to breath, warning him to stay in place.

"Where's Metatron?" She hissed, crouching down next to him and lifting his head. He frowned at her.

"In heaven?" he responded a little hesitantly, as he was only assuming that's where the traitorous arch-angel was spending his days. Hael glowered at him, before slicing her blade across his chest, ripping both shirt and flesh. Instinctively his mind retracted from the threat of torture, his throat clenching to prevent any sound escaping.

"You conspired with him. He wouldn't have left you behind." She said, trailing the blade across the freshly made wound. He shook his head, his mouth feeling too dry to speak. Clearly his silence only provoked her more, as she raised her blade against his cheek, the metal feeling like ice on his skin, invoking a deep sense of dread. The blade trailed slowly towards his eyes, the threat obvious in her actions.

There was a roar of light that engulfed the three figures surrounding him, forcing him to clench his eyes closed. Within seconds it faded and he found himself kneeling alone on the shop floor. He took a deep breath, ignoring the way it got struck in his throat. He looked around to find Kevin standing by a crudely drawn, but obviously effective angel banishing sigil.

Their eyes met, but neither of them said anything for a while. Kevin furrowed his brows at him, tilting his head slightly as his eyes flashed with concern that Castiel couldn't understand. After a tentative moment Kevin approached him, gently resting his hand on his arm as if he was trying to lift him up off the ground that Castiel had completely forgotten he had been kneeling on.

"Castiel, we need to go." Kevin said a touch of wariness in his voice, overshadowed by the sheer amount of worry. Castiel glanced up at him, tilting his head before he shakily got to his feet. He glanced down at his chest, trailing his thumb along the cut which in hindsight was quite shallow. It was definitely something he could deal with and it was not something that should have invoked such a feeling of panic in him. Especially when he had a deep cut on his arm that was gushing blood, flaring with pain each time he moved. But somehow, that cut was not as concerning. It happened during a fight, whereas the chest cut had been when he was restrained. It was too similar to his month of torture.

Resisting the urge to lash out at the inanimate objects surrounding him, he went over to the clothes that Kevin had picked up for him, deciding that he should at least fulfill his purpose for coming out here. Maybe Dean was right when he said he was too weak to hunt. But he didn't feel weak. He didn't want to be weak; it was just this goddamn panic that was overtaking his entire being.

Streams of rage were flowing from his body, making the air thick with unspoken tension as Kevin walked out with him. Castiel could tell that the prophet was worried about him. Kevin kept glancing at the cut on his arm, but his eyes would flash away nervously every time Castiel looked up at him.

When they made it back to the bunker at a quickened pace, Kevin finally worked up the courage to force him to sit down as he tended to his wounds. Under command he removed his t-shirt, not really paying attention to what Kevin was doing. He didn't even flinch as the prophet poured disinfectant over the wound, despite the fact the liquid caused stinging sensations of pain. He could hear some faints murmurs which he assumed was Kevin talking. Something about not really knowing what he was doing, and wondering whether the cut needed stitches.

"Shouldn't they be back by now?" He asked, feeling his mind trying to anchor itself to the real world with that question. Kevin stiffened at the sudden interruption to the silence, but relaxed immediately after, despite the nature of the question.

"I'm not sure. They didn't say." Kevin responded with a shrug. Castiel hummed thoughtfully, not fully convinced. "I'm going to go back to the tablet, if you're okay?" Kevin asked, awkwardly shifting his weight. Castiel nodded, not bothering to look at the prophet. After a moment of hesitation Kevin left him to his own thoughts.

* * *

A couple hours had passed when Castiel decided that enough was enough. He had already called both Dean and Sam multiple times, and each time he had received no answer. It was quite obvious that something had gone wrong. The only issue he was currently having was actually locating where they could possibly be.

They said they had been had been hunting a demon, but he had been searching through all local news and there hadn't been any unusual signs of demonic activity. With a growl of frustration he started looking for anything that would signal a hunt. Searching through the newspapers was tedious and Castiel could feel precious time slipping away, but he had little choice if he wanted to find the Winchesters.

Most of it could be attributed to natural human causes, but there had been a few strange disappearances, and some even more unusual deaths, not to mention the usual ghostly phenomenon. Quickly fetching out the map he started to mark out the locations. Dean had said that they were only going to be gone a few hours, so it couldn't have been that far away and it couldn't have been an overly complex case.

He decided to ignore what he believed to be the work of vengeance spirits. He distinctly remembered them taking great care to pack weapons that would be off little use against spirits. This left him with the supposed kidnappings and the strange murders. Both were off equal distance from the bunker, but in opposite directions so he would have to choose carefully.

The murders. If the brothers knew what was doing the killings then it would simply be a matter of finding the thing and killing it, whereas the disappearances would have required far more research which he was certain that the Winchesters hadn't done. Besides, there was a far more obvious link between the dead victims than there were the missing victims. The dead victims had all committed some form of atrocity that went against the Ten Commandments.

These assumption lead to the most logical conclusion that whatever was doing the killing had somehow got its hands on the brothers before they could kill it. Which meant he had to find its lair. He marked up the location of each murder on the map, noticing that it formed almost an exact circle around a localized area. There was an abandoned warehouse at the center that seemed to be the only place possible to house the murderer.

Except it was far too easy in every way. It was as if someone was directing them to this warehouse for a reason, and Castiel couldn't help but think that it was a trap. And maybe that's why Sam and Dean had managed to get themselves in trouble.

Deciding he didn't have much time to worry about that now he grabbed a duffel bag that Sam had given him when he first got here, and threw some vital items that he might need later in there. Including first aid supplies. Then, quickly changing into some of his new clothes, he made his way out of the bunker.

The main issue was getting there. It wasn't that far away, and it was certainly a walk able distance, but with his friends in trouble he wanted to get there quickly. He could run, but he got the sense that he was going to need to fight when he got there and he didn't want to run out of energy, especially as his arm was still causing him some trouble.

As he was contemplating this a rather expensive and obscenely glamorous car pulled up beside him and the door swung open, revealing a man that had an aura of familiarity, without actually having a single recognizable feature.

"Want a lift?" the man offered, his voice jolting something within Castiel, but the fallen angel was far too occupied to consider what that meant. Making sure he had a grip on his concealed blade, he nodded, getting into the passenger seat.

"Can you get me to the abandoned warehouse on-"

"-on elm's street?" The man finished for him, causing Castiel to raise an eyebrow but to nod all the same. Maybe it was simple a well-known place amongst locals.

The man pulled away from the curb, speeding down the road as if he knew what was at stake. Castiel wasn't going to complain, even if he did find it very strange.

"Powerful demons up there. Angels too, but mainly demons." The man broke the silence just as the warehouse appeared in front of them. Castiel jolted, the grip on his blade tightening as he took in the man's words. The man smiled at his reaction, but simply continued to drive without making any threatening movements.

"Are you a hunter?" Castiel questioned, narrowing his eyes. The stranger released a huff of air that sounded like a strangled laugh, his smile twisting into a smirk that warned of knowledge that was not shared between them.

"Something like that." The man said, pulling the car up in front of the warehouse. Castiel glared at him, but the stranger pointedly looked out of the window towards an all-too familiar car: the impala. Castiel frowned, knowing that the Winchesters were the priority at the moment, but unwilling to let the man out of his sight. Still, he didn't have a choice, so he reluctantly got out of the car.

The man did not wait long to leave, the tyres kicking up mud as they furiously spun over the road. It took only a few seconds for the car to vanish from sight, leaving Castiel alone after the strange encounter. He just had to hope that the man actually wanted to help them. Either that, or it was just another trap.

* * *

Dean struggled against his bonds, trying to ignore the hungry looks the horde of demons was giving him. He looked at Sam, who seemed to be shaking off the signs of concussion but was still having no success in escaping himself.

There was a shift in the air and Dean's struggles intensified as he knew what was about to come. The demons parted to reveal Abaddon standing in their ranks, her eyes blazing with demonic delight as she beheld the two captives.

There was a disturbance from down the hall, distracting Abaddon from her prisoners. Dean was thankful, sending a desperate look to his brother, hoping that Sam was having more luck in escaping. Two of the demons left to investigate, Abaddon watching them with narrowed eyes. When they did not return there was an obvious change in the remaining six demons as their eyes flashed to black as they fell into a fighting mindset.

Three of the demons revealed their weapons and marched off down the hallway with a set look of determination on their faces. Dean watched their retreating form, hoping that whoever was attacking them was on the brothers' side. This time there was the distinct sound of metal on metal; a screech of fury and a gurgling choking sound. The demons did not return.

"Friend of yours?" Abaddon asked, her voice mocking as she crouched down in front of him. Dean glared at her defiantly, allowing a small smirk to form on his face that was matched by Abaddon's own arrogance.

"Stay." She ordered, articulating the word perfectly as the remaining demons made to leave. She rose to her feet, the air tingling with the pure power she had contained within her very essence.

"Why don't you come to us, little warrior," she sang to the air, her voice laced with pure scorn. There was no reply, but the silence seemed to thicken with apprehension. Dean stared into the shadows, trying to identify their supposed saviour.

The attack was quick and effective. The man was a blur of movement, lunging towards the nearest demon and disarming them immediately. The demon stumbled backwards, its companion approaching to help. The man saw the movement and lashed out with his elbow, before twisting so that his blade was slicing through the demons neck. Without a moment hesitation he repeated the move, the last demon falling down dead at his feet.

"Cas!?" Dean exclaimed, observing the mess of black curls and shining blue eyes. His chest clenched in dread as Abaddon took a step towards the fallen angel, her red lips curling up to reveal a flash of perfectly white teeth. Castiel looked at him, before diverting his attentions towards Abaddon, raising his blade defensively.

With a flick of her hand the blade was soaring across the room to be embedded in the wall. Castiel's went tense, but he glared up at Abaddon with the fury of a mad man. Dean wanted to beg him to run, but he couldn't show such concern in front of the demonic bitch. She would merely use it against them.

"Castiel?" She repeated, a worrying trace of recognition in her voice. "You're the angel that lost its grace." Her lips curled upwards as her eyes scanned Castiel's body as if she was assessing a piece of meat. Castiel shifted under her gaze but his face remained stoic. "You could be worth a lot," she said, her voice becoming breathy as if she was reveling in her most intimate desire.

"You can have me if you let them go," Castiel offered without any trace of hesitation. Dean pulled against his bonds, his face twisting as he was filled with unnameable emotions.

"Cas, don't you dare." He growled, but Castiel didn't even look at him. From the corner of his eyes he could see Sam's attempts to escape become frantic, but still they remained futile.

"What's to say I can't have both?" she hissed, viciously throwing Castiel against the far wall where he fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. She approached him, standing over him as she yanked his hair upwards. Castiel glared up at her, trying to struggle free from her grasp. Abaddon backhanded him for this attempt, the sound echoing throughout the small room.

Castiel glowered beneath her, his hands reaching out to clasp onto her exposed flesh. Dean struggled to see what was happening as Abaddon's smirk fell, her eyes widening as she stared down at Castiel. Before she could react to what was happening Castiel kicked out with his legs, causing Abaddon to stumble backwards, but Castiel still kept a tight grip on her arm. She hissed viciously as Castiel reached for his fallen angel blade, lunging towards her chest.

She took hold of the weapon, preventing it from sinking into her chest. With a flare of anger she twisted in his grasp, her elbow connecting sharply with his face. Castiel showed no signs of reacting, so she kicked towards his knee, causing him to buckle beneath her. She broke free from his grasp, stumbling backwards as Castiel leapt to his feet, charging at her with his blade. But as he swung he was met with thin air as Abaddon vanished, teleporting away from the scene.

Castiel wasted no time, rushing towards Sam who was the closest to him and working his bindings free. With that done he moved onto Dean's, taking just a few seconds to cut away the rope.

"Are you injured?" Castiel asked his voice tight with worry as he looked between the two brothers. Dean raised an eyebrow as he observed Castiel's own current state of being, but the fallen angel didn't notice as he was diverted by the head wound of the younger Winchester. Dean also rushed towards Sam, helping to hoist his brother onto his feet.

"We're good Cas. You?" Dean answered, pointedly staring at the various cuts and bruises littering Castiel's body. His eyes fell on Castiel's bandaged arm, which had bled through. Dean felt his hands reach out as he explored the wound with confusion. Castiel hadn't been injured when they had left the bunker, and it clearly hadn't happened in the fight as it was already treated.

"We need to go." Castiel said, spurring them into action. Dean frowned at him, but realized that he did actually have a point. Abaddon could return at any time. Reluctantly he followed Castiel down the hallway, noticing the various demon traps and corpses that littered the floor. Castiel had been very thorough.

Dean headed towards the impala, tapping his fingers on the wheel as Cas helped Sam into the backseat, before he took a seat in the front. There was a moment of hesitation before he finally pulled away, speeding away from the factory whilst hoping that the hex-bags he had stashed in the impala would keep them hidden.

"What did you do to her?" Dean asked after a moment, remembering the way that Castiel had managed to turn the fight in his favour. Cas looked up at him, before almost sheepishly glancing down at his hands, reaching out a palm for Dean to see. On them was a painstakingly carved demon trap, slightly hidden under a layer of oozing blood. Despite himself, Dean smiled, impressed by the move.

"Thanks Cas. We owe you one." He said, meeting Castiel's eyes and trying to convey everything he meant by those words. He was taking back what he said at the bunker. He was trying to tell Cas that he wasn't useless. That he wasn't just a child that needed protecting. And that no matter what happened they would be there for each other. Castiel nodded, his lips twitching upwards but whether he actually got the message was another matter.


	16. Chapter 16

**Well, this chapter actually took ages to write, and if i'm honest with myself I shouldn't have written it anyway considering how busy I am with academic work at the moment, but oh well, this is more important afterall. ****Oh, and I think it might benefit you to remember that when Cas was being tortured he had hallucinations that Dean was also there encouraging the torture.  
**

* * *

Sam pushed himself against the backseat, blinking against the vicious flare of the sun that penetrated his all too-foggy brain. He let out a small groan that was drowned out by the conversation happening in front of him. Taking a deep breath he tried to steady himself in order to focus on what was being said.

"So, that devil trap thing? You think we could use that?" Dean asked, resting one hand on the steering wheel as he glanced at Cas. Sam raised an eyebrow, trying to form some recollection of what Dean had been talking about but coming up blank. He remembered Castiel fighting Abaddon, but he only faintly remembered what had happened next.

"No. I'm surprised it worked the first time." Castiel said solemnly, gazing down at his outstretched palm. Sam shifted so that he could get a better look, and it then dawned on him what they were talking about. The devil's trap carved into Castiel's hand must have been what got rid of Abaddon. "The creases in my palm will cause the trap to break even if it does scar, and besides, it's not that powerful and all a demon has to do is get your hand away from it. I think the only reason it worked this time was because Abaddon must have assumed I still had some angelic power in me and panicked. But she'll work it out soon enough."

Dean nodded but a troubled frown stretched over his feature. He was clearly disappointed by the loss of a potential weapon, but Sam wasn't exactly surprised it wouldn't have been effective. There was a reason no hunter carved demon traps onto themselves, and it was because it was a waste of time. Well, unless you can take a Prince of Hell by surprise, but that's another matter.

"Hey, Sam, you better now?" Dean asked, noticing Sam had awakened for the first time due to his attempts to shift into a more comfortable position. Sam raised a tentative hand to his head, feeling the warm, moist liquid clutching his hair in vicious red tendrils. He didn't think it was still bleeding, and the murkiness of his mind was beginning to dissipate.

"Nasty headache is all, I'll be fine." He responded with a vague shrugging gesture. Castiel turned around to face him, his emotions hidden beneath a stone mask. Without hesitation the ex-angel reached out a hand towards Sam's temple where the wound had been formed. Sam found himself transfixed under the surprisingly gentle gesture; Castiel's fingers brushed past his hair, their touch feather light as if Cas was scared of breaking him. Then, Castiel swallowed heavily, and tore himself away, the moment gone.

"I'm sorry I cannot heal you." Cas murmured after a brief pause, his voice tight with unspoken tension, but underlined with the forceful assertion that there was no need to comment on his statement. After sharing a brief look, both brothers decided to let it drop.

But Sam kept his eyes on Castiel in an attempt to assess his current mind state. The moment that they got back to the bunker they were going to talk about what had happened last night, regardless of whether Castiel wanted to acknowledge his panic attacks or not. Sam would keep his promise to not tell Dean, but only if Castiel accepted his help without any resistance.

"Cas, what happened to your arm?" Dean broke into Sam's thoughts, causing the younger Winchester to become aware of the red-stained bandaged that was crudely wrapped around his arm. Castiel looked at his arm, as if surprised the injury still existed at all.

"Kevin and I, we got attacked by demons."

"What? At the bunker!" Dean snapped, the car jerking slightly as his arms twitched with agitation. Sam shared his brother's alarm, watching Castiel with wide eyes as the fallen angel frowned at them both, before seeming reluctant to fully explain.

"No, we went... 'shopping.'" Castiel said, his voice betraying his apprehension as to how the brothers were going to react.

"You left the bunker?" Dean reiterated, his pitch dropping so that there was a rough quality to his voice that was not far removed from a growl. Castiel blinked, before meeting Dean's eyes defiantly and nodding. "With Kevin?" Dean pressed, and Castiel nodded again, although there was a clear note of hesitation this time round.

The air was fizzing with invisible sparks of slowly building rage that was radiating from the two men in front. Sam sat back, watching them warily but knowing that he could do nothing to prevent what was about to come. The air was too thick; it was suffocating. The silence continued for a few seconds longer, the unbridled emotions hissing viciously as the threat of their presence made itself known.

"You're a fucking idiot, you know that Cas?" Dean scoffed, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he narrowed them. Castiel took a deep breath but otherwise he showed no reaction to Dean's comment. This of course only pissed Dean off more, who with a flare of his nostrils swerved the car to the side of the road; it screeched to a halt. Castiel was thrown forward by the sudden brake, his composure crumbling as his hands collided with the dashboard, just as the belt yanked him roughly back. He barely had a moment to recover himself before Dean was roughly dragging him out of the car, although Sam noticed his efforts to avoid any of Castiel's injuries.

"You don't get to do that!" Dean hissed, running a desperate hand through his hair. Castiel broke out of his lax grip and took a few steps backwards, tilting his head as if he couldn't understand Dean's behaviour. Sam emphasised with Cas, but he couldn't help but feel like Dean had a point, even if he wasn't articulating it very well.

"I was under the belief that I was autonomous," Castiel rounded, his voice laced with venom that managed to throw Dean for a fraction of a second. Sam took this moment to place his body between the two men, resting his hand on each of their chests to keep them at bay.

"That's not what Dean's saying Cas," he said in a controlled voice, angling himself towards Castiel. "He just doesn't want Kevin or you to get hurt."

"Which you did," Dean stated accusingly, gesturing towards the bandage on Cas's arm. Sam felt Castiel's muscles shift and tense beneath his shirt as he stared at the two brothers, his lips twitching, threatening to curl into a silent growl.

"I seem to remember that it was the two of you who nearly got slaughtered today after being kidnapped." Castiel pointed out in a dangerously level voice. Dean blinked, his face shifting defensively as he struggled to come up with a response.

"What, so you think that you can help us out once and then suddenly you are invincible? No, Cas. You're not angel anymore." Dean eventually retaliated, earning a hostile glare from Castiel.

"I'm sorry you no longer consider me useful, but I assure you that you are not merely as competent as you believe." Castiel growled, pushing away Sam's hand in order to approach Dean in an attempt to intimidate him. His shoulders rolled back and Sam idly imagined magnificent black wings spreading behind him in an aggressive manoeuvre. Dean smiled bitterly as he shook his head in frustration, and Sam knew what was about to come but he wasn't in a position to stop it.

Dean punched Cas; his fist collided with Cas' cheek, sending him stumbling backwards in surprise even as the sound echoed throughout their surroundings. Dean wasted no time, stepping towards Cas and yanking him up by his collar. Cas glared up at him, his hands struggling to pull Dean's away from him, but with limited success. His check was already red, the skin looking rough and grazed even as a dribble of blood dripped down from the fresh cut just above his cheekbone.

"Yeah, that hurt didn't it?" Dean spat, pushing Castiel backwards again but keeping a strong hold on his clothes. "Coz you're not strong anymore; you can and will die if you continue to be needlessly reckless."

"Dean," Sam warned through gritted teeth as he watched Dean's muscles twitch as his shoulder shifted backwards in preparation for another blow. The moment ceased as Dean looked up at Sam, before reluctantly releasing his hold on Castiel. Castiel seemed about to retaliate, before apparently thinking better off it, and instead pushing past the two brothers.

"Where the hell are you going?" Dean shouted after the rapidly retreating from, his voice underlined with the faintest trace of concern.

"Cas?" Sam called, but failed to get a response. He glared at Dean, before looking back towards Cas as he hurriedly walked down the road. "Just...make sure you come back to the bunker at some point." He asked with a sigh, surrendering to Cas' desire to deal with his anger in his own way

"You better hope he comes back," he warned turning an angry glare on Dean for being unable to talk about his problems like a mature adult. Dean of course merely rolled his eyes, and climbed back into the driver seat, but his grip on the steering wheel was tight and his skin had paled considerably.

* * *

Cas did come back. But he waited until Dean was left alone in his frantic worrying as both Sam and Kevin had retreated to their rooms for the night. He had been about to just jump into the impala and start looking for the poor guy. He didn't need Sam to tell him he had overreacted; he knew that from the stinging sensations of guilt that was already nibbling at his soul. He hadn't even properly thanked Cas for coming to save them.

But Kevin and Cas had higher forces hungry for just a bite of them, and they couldn't just go out risking their lives for the sake of a few clothes (he had asked Kevin for the full story, but now even the prophet was annoyed at him). And okay, perhaps he was being a little unfair to Cas, but the dude was human now, and Dean didn't think that Cas would remember his newfound vulnerability when it came to a fight. The guy was bound to mess up sooner or later and end up seriously injury, or even worse dead. So yes he didn't want Cas hunting, but a part of him knew that it was inevitable. But, at the very least he didn't want Cas going off on his own with no back-up. What if he had died at that shop? Dean wouldn't know what he would have done. He had already gone through the pain of losing Cas once, he didn't want to do it again.

It was at that point that the door to the bunker swung upon, allowing a chilling breeze to sweep down towards where Dean was standing. Dean felt relief wash over him as Castiel stepped through the door, his body drenched in the shadows of the night. The fallen angel looked down at him and froze, his gaze flickering away immediately, leaving a gaping hole in Dean's chest. After a moment of reluctance, Cas shut the door behind him and made his way down the steps until he was standing just a few feet away from Dean.

"Are you still angry?" Castiel asked once the silence grew too much. Dean's eyes softened at the faint tremble in Cas' voice that would have been undetectable had the bunker not be enveloped in the silence of night.

"No Cas, I was never angry...just worried." Dean confessed, watching with trepidation as Castiel risked a fleeting look at Dean's face, his eyes swirling with confusion and what Dean could only describe as fear, his face set into a mask of wearisome defeat. Dean took a moment to really observe the guy; Cas had a faint unhealthy paleness which was emphasised by the various dark bruises that littered his body-most notably the one on his cheek, and despite the fact he had put on weight he still retained a certain jutting of bones that hinted at an unusual skinniness. His eyes were hollow, dark rings cast over them which could only have been caused by prolonged lack of sleep. His hair was ruffled and refused to return to any sense of order, and he held himself in a posture that spoke of his bone-deep exhaustion, void of Cas' usual attempts to assert a sense of authority over the situation.

"Here, let me look at your injuries." Dean offered once Castiel refused to respond, their first aid supplies already set out on the table in preparation for when Cas returned. Castiel nodded slightly, letting Dean guide him to a chair where he plonked himself down. Slowly, so as not to cause any further pain, Dean peeled away the bandage, frowning as Castiel winced at the tearing of flesh caused by the dried blood clinging to the bandage. He threw the bandage on the table, and grabbed a wet wipe, cleaning away as much of the blood as he could. With that done he carefully inspected the wound, which had already started to leak more blood as the poorly formed scab fell away. It was quite clear that the cut needed stitches, otherwise it would never heal.

"Swallow these," Dean instructed, passing Cas some of the stronger pain killers that the brothers had managed to get, despite them being prescription only. Castiel looked at the tablets warily, before dry swallowing them, making a face at the bitter taste. As Dean waited for the effect to take hold, he made sure to sterilize the needle he was about to use over an open flame, aware of Castiel's eyes on him the whole time. Once the needle was glowing red, Cas' eyes had already developed a hazy sheen from the drugs.

Grabbing some disinfectant, he washed the wound out with it, ignoring the way that Castiel fidgeted needlessly beneath him. With that done he reluctantly grabbed the needle, and began to stitch. As the needle pierced the skin Castiel jumped, before going very stiff, a puff of air escaping his lips. Dean worked quickly, his fingers being guided through years of practice. In the end it did not take long for him to completely stitch the wound, and with that complete Cas allowed himself to relax his tense muscles again.

He then grabbed Cas' hand, inspecting the carved devil's trap and realizing that he couldn't actually do much for that. He put some disinfectant on it, and wrapped a bandage around Cas' palm before glancing over Cas' form again for any more injuries that needed immediate attention. Without prompting, Castiel lifted his shirt revealing a gauze pad that was covering yet another wound. Dean's brows furrowed but he got to work, disposing of the old gauze pad, and replacing it with a new one once he had cleansed the wound. It was too shallow for stitches.

With that out of the way, Dean knew that there was something that they both needed to do. But he wanted to do that somewhere more comfortable. So he gently pulled Cas along to what had become the living room, setting both of them down on the sofa there. Castiel looked around the room, his gaze still clouded and Dean hoped that he wasn't going to have too much trouble focusing on his words.

"Listen Cas, I know you think I consider you a 'broken tool' or whatever, but that isn't how this is. I care about you. I want you here, and I want you alive and well." Dean started, feeling somewhat uncomfortable under Cas' intense stare that had been fixed on him since the word 'broken tool.'

"You're saying you have a sentimental attachment to me," Cas responded, making the idea of someone caring for him sound ridiculous. His words had a hint of the slur and Dean realized that the drugs were going to make him loose with his wordings. Which might actually be a good thing, because Cas was a stubborn dick otherwise.

"I'm saying you are family, Cas." Dean reiterated, stressing the word family to try and convey his full feelings for the fallen angel. Castiel smiled, but it was lopsided; twisted, and Dean found himself momentarily looking at the drug addict from 2014. There is a lack of belief in his non-verbal response and Dean doesn't know how to make Cas understand what he truly means to him. "You don't believe me?"

"I believe in our 'profound bond', but I'm not your family Dean. You and Sam are mine, but it does not run both ways. I am nothing more than a burden." Castiel responds with a shrug, smiling all the way through his confession of self-deprecation and Dean is really beginning to regret giving Cas those pain killers.

"You're not a burden, Cas! You saved our lives today for god sake, and according to Kevin you were pretty badass at that shop too." Dean exclaims, reaching a hand out to Cas' shoulder as if he can shake the knowledge into him. Castiel frowned, tilting his head and furrowing his brows.

"You were angry."

"Yes, I was." Dean admits, but does not allow Castiel to interrupt him before he can continue. "But I shouldn't have been. I was worried about you Cas, you're human and it scares me because it means you can go down just as easily as I can. Look, before we found you, we tried to summon you and when it didn't work we thought you were dead and it almost tore me apart. I even tried to make a deal with Crowley for crying out loud, and I am terrified of having to go through that again. I don't think you are useless Cas, but you are so very mortal."

Castiel watches him for a long time, seeming unable to say anything in response to that. Dean wonders whether Cas will remember this when the drugs wear off, and tries to think about whether he would prefer it or not if he did. On one hand, admitting something like that takes an awful lot and he doesn't want it to go to waste, but if Cas doesn't remember than it would protect some of his dignity.

The moment he realizes that Cas isn't going to continue the conversation, and that he has managed to apologize without actually having to utter the words 'I'm sorry', he decides that he might as well indulge them and decides to turn on the tv. Castiel watches the screen, a small smile-this time a smile that is completely Cas, and not the drugs-creeps onto his face as the sounds and colours wash over him. Dean finds himself smiling watching him and after a while he pulls Cas towards him in a makeshift hug. Castiel goes with it, cuddling into Dean as his eyes flicker close.

Dean feels Cas' breathing begin to slow, as his body goes limp as sleep takes hold. He watches Cas, determined to wait a while before he moves them both, but his intention fades the moment his own eyes drop close without him noticing. He doesn't even become aware that he has fallen asleep until he is woken up by a gentle shaking.

His eyes snap open, scanning his surroundings warily before realizing where he is and relaxing again. He can feel Castiel's body pressed against him, and for a moment he assumes that Cas has woken up and is trying to rouse Dean too. Except the room is still bathed in darkness, and Castiel shows no indication of actually being consciously aware. But the shaking is still there; minute enough that only a hunter would be woken by it. It takes him a second to realize that it is Castiel moving in his sleep, his body practically vibrating with silent struggles.

"Dean," at the mumbled call of his name, he sits up, thinking that Cas has indeed awoken, but Castiel's eyes are still screwed close. His lips are moving, but no words are escaping and it's quite clear that he is merely talking in his sleep. Dean watches for a moment, noticing the thin sheen of perspiration that covers Cas' shaking body, before deciding that it is best to wake him when a small whimper escapes his lips.

However, Castiel does not awake from Dean's gentle shaking, but instead seems to panic more. His movements, already jerky, become frantic and desperate. Dean sees Cas' fist clench the sofa as though he is in great physical pain, another pitiful sound escaping his lips. It is quite obvious now that the fallen angel is in the midst of a rather unpleasant dream, and being able to sympathise, Dean increases his efforts to wake Cas up.

Cas wakes with a start, his body twisting as if he is trying to fight Dean away from him. His eyes are as wide as saucers, but they remained fixed on Dean's face, but worryingly the fear refuses to dissipate. Castiel seems to still be lost in his nightmare, yet his fear is focused solely on Dean, and the hunter can't help but wonder why his presence isn't calming the Cas; why in fact it is doing the complete opposite.

Castiel's claws at him desperately, trying to push away which causes the fallen angel to end up on the floor. But he doesn't seem to notice, he just keeps trying to back away from Dean. Dean isn't sure what he is meant to do in this situation, but he gets up and sits in front of Cas, trying to get him to focus on the real world. Castiel lashes out with his fists, but Dean catches his wrists and holds them tight. Castiel stares at the iron grip, his body quaking even as he goes limp, giving up the fight.

"Cas?" Dean says carefully, making sure to look into those scared blue eyes. Castiel just stares at him, his body continuing to shake viciously. His eyes are still glazed, and Dean assumes that this whole nightmare panic attack thing must be down to a side-effect of the drugs. But he needs Cas to snap out of it. So he keeps a hold of his wrists and continues to search his eyes.

In the end it takes about five minutes before Castiel blinks, a spark of recognition colouring his eyes even as he looks around in confusion. Dean notices the change immediately, watching as the tremors begin to dissipate. Wasting no time he hoists Castiel back onto the sofa and lets them rest in the same position they had fallen asleep in.

"Dean?" Castiel asks, his voice hoarse as he looks up at Dean with bewilderment. Dean continues to run a hand through his hair in what he hopes is a soothing gesture, not really sure what he is meant to say.

"You had a nightmare."

"Oh." Cas says simply, looking down at the floor as if he is ashamed of the fact. And Dean understands, because nightmares aren't fun and you don't want to have others trying to mother you because of them. So Dean doesn't, but simply lays his head back, and closes his eyes. He waits until he feels Castiel's breathing slows a couple of hours later before he allows himself to drift off back to sleep.

This time when he awakens the first touch of morning light has infiltrated the room. He notices immediately that the tv is now off, and that someone (most likely Sam) has draped a blanket over their sleeping bodies. And Cas is still sleeping soundly besides him. With a small smile, he allows himself to drift off back to sleep, deciding that he doesn't have much dignity left to sacrifice anyway.

,


End file.
